In the Blood
by Moon Raven2
Summary: When Juice's mom moves them to Charming mid-semester of his junior year, he's ready for everything to suck. But then he meets long-time friends Opie Winston, Jax Teller, Tara Knowles, and Olivia Gable, and he realizes he has a chance for a new start, away from Queens and the geek he used to be. (Juice/OFC; highschool!au)
1. Young and Unimpressed

Uh oh. Back so soon. Hi, loves! Um, this is something completely different from me. I've never written a high school AU, but the brief conversation Juice and Olivia had in ch62 of _Come With Me Tonight_ got me interested. So here we are.

If you've read that story you'll recognize Olivia Gable, my OC from there, and if you haven't...that's cool, too, bc it's not like there's anything you'd need to know since this is an AU off of that. :)

Check out the end notes for a little more information/clarification on some points. And enjoy!

* * *

**cut a tape of my favorite songs**  
**said what i can't face to face**  
**i hoped that you would share all my thoughts **  
**we are young and unimpressed by all you'd recognize**  
Better Than Ezra, "Rewind"

The worst thing about moving to California wasn't adjusting to everything: the weather, the sunshine, the fucking _space_. The way people talked, all loose and easy. The slower pace, like all that sunshine made you kinda lazy and addled. And the food. Avocado in fucking everything, but he kinda liked avocado anyway. Not that he'd admit it.

No, what Juice Ortiz hated most about his mom's sudden and random desire to pick up and move cross-country was that she'd done it a third of the way through the semester. Now he was not only the new kid, he was the middle-of-the-year new kid. There was no worse position to be in.

This was a chance, though. Back in Queens he'd had a rep as a kinda geek loser kid. He got into trouble a lot, and he'd do people's homework for the right price. (Lie: he would hack into a database of old papers and shit he'd found and _steal_ homework _for_ people, but they didn't know that.) But here, in Charming, maybe he had a chance to make a new name for himself.

He'd grown over the summer and filled out, but that hadn't mattered to the assholes back in Queens. They still treated him like the shrimpy Puerto Rican kid on free lunch who didn't have a dad. Out here his mom had gotten a decent job and it looked like they wouldn't even need to be on welfare. Food stamps, maybe, but he could deal with that—and maybe only temporarily until he could find something to help supplement their income.

It was November of his junior year, two weeks before Thanksgiving, and for the first time in as long as he could remember he thought maybe things might go okay for them. Yeah, he fuckin' hated coming into school in the middle, but maybe he could use that to his advantage, too.

The guidance counselor was a harried-looking woman in her mid-fifties, and she gave Juice a rundown of his classes and the school itself in a voice so fast and breathless he caught maybe one word in twenty. Finally she waved down a student and hoisted Juice off onto him.

"Harry will help you," she said. "Won't you, dear?"

"Um, sure," he said, nonplussed.

She patted his arm and flitted away, leaving them to stand awkwardly in the middle of the hall.

"You new?" he said.

"Yup. First day."

He nodded slowly. "Where you been the first part of the year?"

Juice offered a smirk and a shrug. "Ya know. Juvie."

The guy—tall, skinny, and in need of a haircut— was obviously impressed. "Right on." He offered a high five and asked him for his class schedule. "Come on. I got some of this same shit. I can show you where the metal shop is. Oh, you got auto, too?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm kinda into cars."

"Me too," he said. "I'm Opie. Nobody calls me _Harry_, so pretend you didn't hear that shit."

"Opie. Like from Mayberry?"

"Yeah, I guess. I was real short when I was younger, and my dad thought it was funny."

"Huh." Juice could relate to that. "Juice," he said. "Ortiz."

"Cool. Where were you before juvie?"

"Queens. My mom got a job out here so we moved kinda last minute."

"Sucks, man. That's a long way."

He hitched a shoulder and tugged the strap of his backpack a little higher. "Better weather in California anyway."

"Fuck yeah," he said with a grin. "Oh, hey." He waved down the hall to a blond kid and a dark-haired girl. They were holding hands, and when they saw him they both grinned.

"Jax, Tara, you met the new guy yet?" Opie said when they were closer.

"There's a new guy?" the girl said with a smirk. She eyed Juice up and down and her smile deepened. "Tara Knowles. Welcome to Charming."

"Juice Ortiz. Thanks. You guys juniors too?"

"Yup," the blond said. "You?"

"Same," he said. Back in Queens he'd usually been mistaken for younger, both because of his size and because his late birthday (July) usually made him one of the youngest people in his class. But his growth spurt had helped, and they just nodded like it was nothing.

"Jax Teller, man. Nice to meet you."

They slapped hands and Juice grinned. "Yeah, man. You too."

"Juice and his mom moved here from Queens. He was in juvie first part of the year," Opie explained.

Jax and Tara shared a look, and Jax tried to hide a grin. "Wow, bro. Hardcore."

"No big. Baby jail," he said with studied nonchalance.

"I was gonna show him the way to the metal shop. You comin'?" Opie said to Jax.

Another look passed between him and his girl. She laughed and kissed him. "Go have fun with your toys, Teller. I got bio."

"Study hard, baby. I'll see you later."

"Uh huh," she said. "Tell Ollie I said hey."

Jax patted her ass as she walked away, and she tossed a wink over her shoulder. They stood for a moment and watched her go before he said, "C'mon. Shop's down here."

"Who's Ollie?" Juice said as they walked.

Opie and Jax glanced at each other over his head—they were both taller than he was, but Jax not by much—and neither said anything. Finally Opie shook his head. "Ollie can give you the tour. You got free period next, right?"

"Yeah. That a new kid thing, or everybody get it?"

"Only people with decent grades," Jax said with a scowl. "Ope and me got fuckin' English. Might just skip."

"Fuck no, man," Opie said. "I skip again my dad's gonna kill me."

Jax snorted. "If Presbo calls my mom I'm fucked," he said in reference to Mr. Presbolowski, the principal.

"Sounds like good reasons not to skip," Juice said.

"Fuck yeah," Opie said. "My dad I could handle—mostly—but his mom's scary as shit."

They stopped at a scarred metal door with the word "Shop" welded onto it, the letters made up of a variety of different objects and metals. Opie handed Juice his schedule. "We're right down there," he said and nodded. "We'll see you after, yeah? For actual class."

"Sure, man. Thanks for your help."

"No problem," Jax said. They started away, but Juice stopped them.

"Uh," he said, "which one's Ollie?"

"Oh." Jax opened the door and looked around. He spotted a small, slight figure across the room. "Over there. Short kid with the welding torch."

"Cool." He stepped into the shop and felt instantly soothed by the familiar smell of hot metal. Behind him the door shut, and he didn't hear Jax and Opie's good-natured snickers.

He approached the welder warily and waited until he paused and stepped back to study his work. It was a sculpture. Sort of. Maybe? Juice wasn't sure. It looked like a jumble of metal to him, but sort of…not. It was weird. And cool.

"Um, hey?" he said, uncertainly.

He glanced up and lifted the visor on the helmet.

Juice blinked. _He_ was definitely a _she_: big green eyes, freckles across her nose and cheeks, full mouth. A strand of blondish-red hair straggled down the side of her neck. She lifted her brows at his surprised face.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"Uh. I think I got the wrong person. Jax and Opie said I should look for Ollie."

She snorted out a laugh and flicked the torch off. Put it aside and stripped off her gloves before she got rid of the helmet. "They were fuckin' with you, dude. I'm Ollie. It's short for _Olivia_."

"Oh." His mouth quirked. "Makes sense, I guess."

She unzipped the jumpsuit she wore and shrugged out of the top before tying the arms around her waist so it wouldn't slip off. Underneath she had on a Pearl Jam t-shirt, and her hair was pulled back in a bun near the nape of her neck. She had dark eyeliner around her light green eyes, and it had smudged in the heat.

She was pretty. Not drop-dead gorgeous, but with that bright hair and her strong features, she made you want to look twice.

She rubbed at her cheek. "I gotta remember not to wear eye makeup on metal days." She held out her hand and he blinked at it.

"You're new, right? They sent you for the tour? Let me see your schedule."

"Right. Yeah." He handed it to her, and she studied it with an amused tilt to her mouth. "I'm Juice Ortiz, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," she said without looking up. "You're in metal and auto. Cool. Me too. I guess Jax and Opie told you they are, also."

"Uh huh." He paused. "You, uh—" He started to ask her about being a girl in shop, but at the last minute he changed his mind. "I met Tara, too."

"Not surprised. She and Jax are practically grafted at the hip."

He made a low noise.

"Come on," she said. "There's not much to see, but I can at least show you the basics. You're lucky you have free period now. If they'd pulled this shit in actual class it would've been a lot worse."

"They do this a lot?"

"Well, I mean. We don't get many new kids, but for some reason it tickles them." She shrugged. "They're dipshits, but they didn't mean anything by it."

He fell in behind her as she walked, surprised by how fast her short legs ate up the ground. He had maybe five inches on her, and it was a refreshing feeling to look that far down at a girl. She gestured as she talked, pointing out various tool chests, materials, and general supplies. He took it all in, making careful mental note of everything she said, and after a moment they reached a door in the back wall.

"This is sort of—like a break area. Sometimes the fumes get too much, so if you need a breather, come in here. If you get caught outside without a pass it's detention. They'll think you're smoking or gettin' high or some shit."

She waved him inside, and he followed her through the door and into a small, surprisingly clean space with a sprung brown sofa, a Coke machine, and a small table and chairs jammed into one corner.

"You can stay in here as long as you want, but don't, like, take advantage of it. Mr. Collins is cool, but he's not a pushover."

"Yeah, okay," he said as he looked around. There were photos taped over every square inch of wall space, and he stepped closer to study them.

"Student projects," she said. She pointed at one. "Mine. Entered it in the expo last year."

It was another sculpture, kinda similar to the one she'd been working on. This one made more sense, though. It still didn't _make_ anything, not exactly, but it…it reminded him of stuff. He couldn't say what, but he thought maybe that was the point. He didn't say any of that out loud, because it felt completely stupid, so he just nodded.

"Cool," he said.

She handed him his schedule with a brief smile. "Where you from, Ortiz? Not Cali."

"Nah. Queens. New York."

"Long way from home," she said.

"Yup." He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and rocked back on his heels. "So you and Opie. You're a thing?"

Her head tilted. "What would give you that idea?"

"I don't know. Jax and Tara—"

"Are Jax and Tara. No, Opie and I aren't together. We're friends. Jax and Ope are like platonic soul mates or some shit, and Tara and I have been best friends since second grade, and Tara and Jax—"

"Are practically grafted at the hip," he said.

"Uh huh. So, I mean. Sort of inevitable I'd be friends with Ope and Jax, too." Her mouth moved in a wicked little curve. "What about you, Ortiz? You got some sweet young thing pinin' for you back in Queens?"

Somehow he managed not to choke. It wouldn't do the new rep he was trying to build any favors if he floundered now. Instead he flashed a cocky smirk and gave an easy shrug. "One or two, I guess."

She laughed, but there wasn't any meanness or mocking in it. "Good for you," she said. "I'm sure the ladies of SanWa South look forward to getting to know you a little better."

"Like you?" he said, eyeing her up and down.

"Sorry, tiger, I'm not exactly on the market. Good try, though. Decent style and execution, and extra points for effort. I mean, I'm not even looking cute right now."

He would argue with that, but he figured she'd just laugh. He wondered who she was going out with, if not Opie. He couldn't imagine she was the type of girl who would date some dumb jock. She seemed too…blunt, maybe.

He lifted his brows in a shrug and smiled at her. "Worth a try," he said.

"Uh huh," she said. "Listen, I need to get back to work. Make yourself comfortable, but you can't use any of the equipment until Mr. Collins clears you. He's really adamant about safety, so don't fuck with him about it."

"Works for me. Really don't wanna saw my arm off or some shit."

"Smart, Ortiz," she said with a quick laugh. "I think you're gonna fit in here just fine."

* * *

They had lucked out that year, and the four of them had lunch together for the first time in their high school career. When Olivia got through the line and joined them at their usual table, Jax and Tara were already there, his arm draped lazily over her shoulders. Opie was right behind Olivia, and she scooted into the booth to make room.

Tara grabbed the carton of milk from Olivia's tray and Olivia stole a fry from Opie. He scowled and took her pudding cup, but she'd bought it for him anyway. They all raided the small Tupperware thing of cookies Jax had brought. His mom, they agreed, was the best cook of all their parents—not that that was saying much in Opie and Tara's case, but Olivia's dad at least put in the effort.

"We still on for Saturday?" Tara said to her as they ate. It was the first words any of them had spoken, but they'd been friends so long they didn't really need actual spoken language to communicate anymore.

They had plans to hit the mall in Stockton even though neither of them really had the money to buy anything. It was just an excuse to get out of Charming for the day. "Yup," she said. "I talked my dad into giving us a ride."

Tara rolled her eyes. "We can take the Cutlass, Ollie."

She hesitated, but after a moment she nodded. "Yeah, that's cool. He'll be relieved he's off the hook."

The other three shared a look as Olivia bent her head to eat. It had been four years since her mom's death in a car accident, but she still didn't trust any drivers besides herself or her dad. She'd probably get over it one day, but it didn't look like it'd be any time soon.

"So," Olivia said with a smile, "I met the new guy."

Opie and Jax burst out laughing and Tara scowled. "Did you do the thing?"

"We totally did the thing," Jax said.

"God, you'd think that'd get old," Tara said with a roll of her eyes.

"Fuck no," said Opie. "It's classic. What'd he do?" he said to Olivia.

"Not much. Thought he had the wrong person, but after that he took it mostly in stride." She hesitated and picked at her pizza. "He kind of hit on me."

"Shit," said Jax. "Kid works fast."

"You don't even look cute today," Opie said, something that earned him a kick under the table from Tara. "Ow. I mean. Not _as_ cute as you look _some_ days."

"Fuck you, Winston," she said, unfazed. "Just because I don't push _your_ buttons doesn't mean other guys don't think I'm adorable as shit."

"Yeah, with that mouth you're like a fuckin' cupcake," he said.

"You never complained about my mouth before," she said, sweetly, and he cracked up even as he blushed furiously.

She hadn't lied when she'd told Juice she and Opie weren't a thing: they weren't, but they had been once. Mostly because, like Juice had pointed out, it seemed to line up so perfectly…but ultimately they'd decided they weren't at all right for each other romantically speaking, and now they pretty much just gave each other shit about it at every opportunity.

"I wish you two'd just fuck and get it over with," Jax said.

Their friends hadn't given up hope, however.

"Sorry, Teller. Not gonna happen." She took the last cookie, and when Opie complained she broke it in half and gave him the bigger piece.

"Olivia is currently experimenting, Jax," Tara said. "You know that."

He grunted. "How is Mr. Prom King?"

She frowned. "He wasn't Prom King, Jax, he was—"

"Homecoming King," Opie said. "Yeah, we know. And?"

"_And_ he's fine." She shifted in her seat. She really didn't want to talk about TJ right now. "How about you, Ope? Things okay with Donna?"

He glowered and stabbed at his mashed potatoes with way more violence than they deserved.

"They're off again," Jax said, _sotto voce_.

Opie glared at him, and Olivia gave his arm a sympathetic pat. "Sorry, bud. I'm sure she'll come around to your singular charms in time."

"It'd help if he didn't smell like a muskox," Jax said.

She leaned closer and sniffed him. "No more muskox-ier than usual."

"I can't smell him at all," Tara said with a grin.

"You guys should take this act on the road," Opie muttered.

"Douche alert," Jax said under his breath.

Olivia turned her head with an annoyed frown, and sure enough TJ Flanary was approaching their table. "Quit being an asshole, Jackson," she said.

"There you are, Olivia," TJ said, an irritated line between his sandy blond brows. "I thought we were having lunch together."

Her mouth fell open. "Um. We were?"

"Yeah? Because I have free period now?" He crossed his arms over his pink Izod polo shirt and glared down his nose at her. "You forgot."

"Nooo…I just…I didn't see you, so I thought you had to study or something."

"Pull up a chair, TJ," Tara said with the too-sweet smile TJ didn't know her well enough to recognize as dangerous. "We'd love for you to join us."

He made a face that he didn't bother to try to hide. "No thanks. Olivia?"

She elbowed Opie until, with a reluctant sigh, he slid out of the booth. TJ caught sight of her tray and his frown deepened.

"_That's_ your lunch?" he said, looking at her pizza and tots like they were crawling with roaches.

"Looks like," she said.

"Throw that shit away. I'll buy you a salad."

She muffled a sigh. "Great," she said. "Sounds yummy."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jax muttered as they moved out of earshot. "What the fuck is she thinking?"

"No idea," Tara said. "I think it might have something to do with her dad. He's been comin' down on her really hard lately, about her grades and her friends and everything."

"Us?" Opie said.

"We're her friends, Ope," Jax said, dryly.

"He doesn't like her getting close to the club," Tara said. "He thinks SAMCRO's bad news."

"That why she quit at TM?" Jax said.

Up until a month ago Olivia had had an after school job at his family's garage. She was good with the cars, a better mechanic than Jax, really, and since he wanted more time to spend with Tara anyway, he'd been happy to give her his hours. Now she was gone and he was back there slaving away. His mom was happy because she'd had to pay Ollie; as her kid, Jax worked for free.

"Yup," Tara said. "Pretty sure. Anyway, I think she's only dating him because her dad thinks he's 'neat-o keen,'" she said with exaggerated air quotes. She rolled her eyes. "I seriously doubt he's seen him treat her like that."

"We should slash the tires on that douchey little BMW he drives," Opie said.

"Shit like that is exactly why Mr. Gable thinks we're a bad influence," said Tara.

"You're the bad influence, babe," Jax said. "I was a great kid until I started hangin' out with you."

"Please," she said. The first bell rang and they gathered their trays. "See you after?" she said to Jax.

Sometime over the summer she'd decided she wanted to go to college, and a good one, so suddenly she was in a bunch of Honors classes while he and Opie still goofed off in all their basic shit. He had PE next, and she had Spanish III. Opie was off to history, his least favorite.

Jax dropped a kiss on the top of Tara's head and grinned at her. "Sounds good. If you see Ollie, make sure to tell her how much we like her new boyfriend."

"Real Prince motherfuckin' Charming," Opie said.

"Go to class, morons."

She hurried down the hall to her locker and dug out her Spanish book. All of this would be solved if Ollie and Opie would just give it another try. It had been a weird time last year, with Opie's parents' divorce and everything. Yeah, Opie's dad was in the club, and Opie would probably end up there, but there were way worse things than being Opie Winston's old lady.

Like dating TJ Flanary, for one.

* * *

Juice had passed Opie and Jax on his way into the cafeteria, and they had greeted each other with nods and complex handshakes that they'd somehow perfected after only a few hours' acquaintance. Juice had laughed with them in metal shop earlier about the whole Ollie/Olivia thing, and he could tell he'd earned points with them over it. It was clear from the way other kids eyed them that they were Somebodies around here, juniors or not.

"You got lunch this period?" Jax said.

"Looks like it."

"Killer. We just got through. Avoid the tacos, man. They were meatloaf yesterday."

Juice made a face. "Yeah, thanks."

"Later, bro," Opie said and clapped him on the back.

They parted ways and Juice paused a moment to study the cafeteria. Back in Queens he usually ate in the computer room, but he was sick of that bullshit. There was a group of guys he recognized from shop, so after he went through the line he dropped his tray at their table and sat down.

Conversation stopped and they looked at him.

"New guy," one of them said with a sneer, "what the fuck you think you're doin'?"

"Having lunch," Juice said.

"Not here you're not," the guy said and rose to his feet.

The kid next to him grabbed his arm and tugged him back into his seat. "He hangs with Teller and Winston," he said. "You saw 'em back in shop. Them and their bitch."

Juice's brow furrowed. "Probably wouldn't be great if Winston and Teller heard you were talkin' about their friend like that."

"What the fuck you know about it, new kid?" he first guy said.

Juice shrugged a shoulder. "I know she's Tara Knowles' best friend, and Tara and Jax are practically grafted at the hip. I also know she used to go out with Opie."

The last bit was a stab in the dark, but during class today he'd noticed something about the way they interacted; they might not be dating _now_, but he got the sense they knew each other a little better than just platonic buddies.

There was a long silence. Juice waited. Finally the guy shrugged.

"Whatever, man. Sit here if you want. Free goddamn country."

Juice smirked and went back to his pizza. Looked like he'd been right: Jax Teller and Opie Winston were heavies at SanWa South, even as juniors, and somehow Juice had fallen in with them.

His new rep was already halfway made, and he hadn't even done a fuckin' thing.

* * *

_Welp. Here we go again. This story is going to be COMPLETELY different, tonally, than _Come With Me Tonight_, largely bc I have no desire to write so much angst again so soon._

_A couple things to keep in mind: I haven't taken the SoA crew as we know it and just plunked them into high school. I'm basically doing a flashback-type scenario, so everyone is pretty much the age they would have been when Jax, Tara, and Ope were teenagers. Which means this takes place in the 90s. I've adjusted a little for age: made Juice younger so that he's the same age, and actually made them all a bit younger so that this could take place in the _late_ 90s since I wanted easy access to computers and the internet._

_Um, obvs it's an AU. So I know this isn't how Juice came to Charming or anything. :) And I've changed Olivia's backstory, too, so that it fits in better with this AU; keen-eyed readers will recall that before she went on the run her name was Audra Munro. I honestly thought that was too damn confusing, so she's Olivia Gable here, as though the other name didn't exist. Also notice the rating: while the first several chapters it'll mostly be for language, it'll be for some other things on down the road._

_Just a request, lovely readers, that if this is piquing your interests and you'd like to read more, reviews always help get my Muse fired up. :)_


	2. Masks

Thank you for the reviews for chapter 1! I'm pretty excited about this story, partially bc it's so different for me, so I hope you guys enjoy it. :)

* * *

**you say no, no, no, the fighting has left you tired**  
**you say no, no, no, but the fighting goes on**  
**put on your mask, wearing your cape**  
**put on your mask, my Rosealia**  
**put on your mask, wearing your cape**  
**put on your mask, my Rosealia**  
Better Than Ezra, "Rosealia"

"TJ, get _off_ it! Opie's my friend. You _know_ that!" she said for maybe the tenth time in ten minutes. They were sitting in his snazzy red BMW in the school parking lot, and they'd been arguing about it nearly half an hour. The place was almost empty by now.

"Yeah, you say that, but then I catch you cozied up with him—"

"We weren't _cozied_! We were sitting in a booth in the cafeteria. He's a big guy and he takes up room."

Opie was skinny, but he was tall as a tree, and all arms and legs. She had a feeling he'd fill out soon and end up huge, like his six-foot-five dad, Piney.

"Olivia," TJ said, his voice going cold, "what have I told you about interrupting me?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it again and let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, TJ. It was an accident."

"I'd hope so," he said. He paused. "You know there are a hundred girls at this school who would kill to go out me."

It was something he never failed to remind her of. Her smile turned rigid. "I know," she said. "I'm really lucky."

"You're so sweet, Olivia. And you know I think you're very pretty."

She lifted a brow. There was danger here, but she couldn't sense it just yet. "Thank you, TJ. That's nice of you to say."

He sighed a little and and his eyes raked her body. "I just don't understand why you would choose to dress like that."

She looked down. It was shop day—both auto and metal—and she always wore older clothes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Today she had on the Pearl Jam t-shirt with a pair of old, worn-in jeans that had a rip at the knee and Doc Martens eight-eyes with a flower pattern; they'd been a gift from her dad for her recent birthday and she loved them. She'd fixed her makeup after shop, so she knew that looked decent, and her long red-gold hair was smoothed back in a bun.

"Um. Well, I mean, I'm not dressed up or anything, but—"

"I just mean," he said, "it seems like if you're so proud to be my girlfriend you'd dress like it. Look good for me."

Apparently he had no problem interrupting _her_. Some days she wondered why she put up with this shit…but then she'd remember the look on her father's face when she told him she was going out with TJ Flanary, Teddy Flanary's son and one of SanWa County's richest and most prominent heirs apparent, and she knew she had to stick it out. He could be really sweet, sometimes. Just every once in a while he got these moods—

She cut the thought off. It was her fault. She'd forgotten their lunch date, and then he'd caught her sitting so close to Opie. It always upset him to see them together; she'd told him they dated last year, and ever since then he'd made his displeasure at Opie's strong presence in her life plain.

"You're right. I have shop on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I just wasn't thinking. From now on I'll bring clothes to change into after."

His lips pursed. What now?

"I thought you were going to drop at least one of those."

Her brows drew together. "TJ, I like you. I do. But you don't get to have say over my class schedule, okay? I love shop, and I'm not dropping either one. Auto is an easy A for me, and metal is where I do my work."

His mouth curved, and there was a nasty edge to it. She could tell she'd won, but there would be a cost. "Of course. I'm sorry. I forgot about your little junk projects."

There it was. She was so used to that attitude from nearly everyone (including, despite his support in nearly every other area of her life, her dad) that she let it roll off her. He thought he'd scored a hit, and that would exorcise his bad mood so that they could enjoy their afternoon.

"Gimme a ride home and I'll put on something cute, then we can go to Lefties."

His face hit up. She hated Lefties, the after-school hangout of the prep kids from both SanWa South and North, but he loved it. And he loved showing her off there.

She preferred to spend her afternoons at TM, but of course that was impossible with TJ. Not only did he hate everything SAMCRO, but they would chew him up and spit him out if he so much as stepped a loafer-clad toe on the property. She loved it there: the bikes, the shop, the guys. Even the crow eaters, who she found fascinating. Not that she'd ever want to be a crow eater, just—the whole thing was so cutthroat, these women vying over the men behind the scenes, all trying to grab the coveted crown of old lady.

The fact that everyone just assumed Olivia and Opie would end up together, and Opie would be the VP to Jax' club President one day, didn't hurt Olivia's status around the place either. It might, one day, when Opie was old enough to attract the eaters' attention, but for now she was just the cute kid in the shop, and they loved playing with her hair and painting her nails—especially since her mom died and they'd all sort of adopted her.

"Olivia!"

TJ's sharp voice penetrated her thoughts and she sat up straighter. "I'm sorry. I was trying to decide what I should wear. What were you saying?"

He was slightly mollified that she was taking his "suggestion" so seriously, so his answer wasn't as harsh as it might have been. "I just said how glad I am you quit your job at that disgusting garage. It was vulgar, you working there with all those men."

"Jax's mom was usually there, TJ," she said before she caught herself.

He made a face. "Gemma Morrow is a biker whore, Olivia. Is that really the type of woman you want looking out for you?"

TJ hated Gemma. Hated with the type of passion most people reserved for the DMV and taxes. Olivia had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with his father: maybe Teddy had had a thing for Gemma back in high school, but Gemma only had eyes for John Teller. The Flanarys could hold a grudge like nobody's business.

"Of course not. That's why I quit," she said, reciting the words by rote.

He patted her thigh, a bit more intimately than she might have liked. "That's right," he said. "And it was the right thing to do, wasn't it?"

"Yep," she said. "I have so much more free time now. It's great."

"Exactly! Time to spend with me!"

"Which is just what I want," she said with one of those soft, sweet smiles that had charmed better men that TJ Flanary—who was, after all, barely more than a pouty boy. She leaned closer and raise her mouth for his kiss, and he was eager to oblige.

He kissed hard, like he was out to punish her mouth, and he always used his teeth. They scraped over her bottom lip, but she hid the wince. The first time he'd kissed her like this she'd flinched, and she'd learned there were few surer ways to ignite his temper.

He believed he was a lothario, and woe to anyone who made him feel otherwise. So she kissed him back, but as he tried to grope her chest she pulled away.

"TJ," she said with a shy grin, "come on. Anybody could see."

"There's nobody around," he said and pulled her to him again.

She let him fumble at her t-shirt and her mind wandered. It was a balancing act to keep TJ in check. One wrong step and he'd fly off the handle. She'd largely learned how to manage him, but every once in a while she let her vigilance slip and they ended up in a fight like today's. It had been minor, really, and she was glad she'd thought to suggest Lefties.

His hand slid under her shirt and she grabbed it. "Whoa there, buckaroo," she said. "No second base in the school parking lot. Come on; we need to get to Lefties before all the good tables are taken."

He snorted. "As if _I_ can't get a table!" But he settled into his seat and put the car in gear.

As they pulled out she caught sight of a figure leaning against a burly black motorcycle. He was lighting a cigarette—a big mistake on school property, she would've told him—and as they went by he offered her a wry half-smile and a sarcastic salute.

It was the new guy. Juice Ortiz. _Fuck_, she thought, her cheeks burning. From his spot he probably saw everything, maybe even heard their raised voices as they'd fought. Luckily TJ hadn't seen him, or she'd have to field even more questions about who he was, how she knew him, why he dared to wave and smile at _TJ Flanary's girlfriend_ like she was just _anybody_. The "he's new and doesn't know any better" defense might work, but she was glad she wouldn't have to use it. She'd had enough of handling TJ for one day.

If she could navigate the minefield that could be Lefties—_you talked too much_; _you didn't talk enough_; _you laughed too hard_; _you didn't laugh hard enough_—she'd be home free.

He patted her knee and she cast him a distracted smile. "Sorry I was such a jerk," he said.

"You weren't. I shouldn't have sat with Opie like that. And I should've looked harder for you before I gave up."

"That's true," he said, "but still. I might've overreacted just a little. I know you try." He smiled. "We could skip Lefties today if you want. There's that movie you were talking about the other day? We could go see it instead, and get something to eat after."

She hesitated. Her mind frantically scanned the last few minutes' conversation, but she couldn't see where she might have fucked up. Maybe his offer was genuine.

"I know how much you love it, though," she said. "And it's dollar strawberry shake day." Strawberry was his favorite, and while he could afford to buy literally every strawberry milkshake in the state of California, he also had a frugal streak and loved to feel like he was getting a deal.

"True," he said. "But that's how much I care about you, babe. I want you to be happy. Come on: let's drop by your place so you can change and let your dad know what's up, and then we'll hit the theater. It'll be fun."

And she bought it, idiot that she was. She smiled and laced her fingers through his and said sure, a movie sounded great. Lefties would be there tomorrow, and sometimes it was better to make your adoring public wait, after all.

It was probably that last comment that saved her the worst of it.

Following the movie and dinner and a walk in the park he'd gotten quiet and still and she knew trouble was coming. He spent the next hour in a diatribe about her selfishness, and how he cared so much more about her happiness than she did about his, and all he wanted was to show off his pretty girlfriend and was that so awful? She never wanted to hang out with his friends and she didn't even bother to dress well for him and was she so _selfish_ she couldn't let _him_ have some fun for once? It was strawberry Thursday and they'd skipped it to do what _she_ wanted! He didn't see her making any sacrifices for him—like dropping _either_ auto _or_ metal shop, not _both_, he wasn't an _asshole_—and instead just pranced around doing whatever she wanted with whoever she wanted.

She weathered it in silence, apologizing all the way, and when he'd finally worn himself out he drove her home, walked her to her door, and gave her a soft, loving kiss. He told her he was sorry for yelling, that he hated to yell at her, but she knew how much he loved strawberry Thursdays at Lefties, and maybe if she'd been more thoughtful he wouldn't have had to bring her home to change and they would've been able to go there _and_ the movie.

"And wouldn't that have been better, sweetie?" he said.

She nodded and apologized again. Another one of those gentle kisses and she went inside. Mumbled something at her father and fled to her room where she threw herself on the bed and cried herself to sleep, her homework forgotten and her carefully applied makeup melting off her face and onto the pillow.

* * *

Juice stubbed out his cigarette half-smoked and watched the red BMW pull out of the parking lot. He'd recognized Olivia Gable inside, and the guy with her must be the boyfriend. Jesus what a fuckin' douche.

It seemed like they were fighting about something, because when he'd first noticed them the guy had been waving his arms around half-crazy, and while at first she'd responded, eventually she'd just lapsed into this sort of vacant, Barbie-like smile. Finally he kissed her and tried to grab her tits, and after that things seemed to calm down.

The look on her face before she'd actually noticed him bothered him. She'd looked…he didn't have a word for it, but he didn't think it was the face most girls made when they'd just been making out with their boyfriend in his red Beamer. But then her eyes had locked with Juice's and her expression had gone smooth and neutral except for the flare of color across her too-pale cheeks.

"Hey, man, that your bike?" a familiar voice said from behind him.

Juice straightened and saw Jax Teller and Opie Winston headed his way. He wondered where Tara was.

"Yeah," he said. "Back home this guy in my old neighborhood kept it in our hall, and one day he told me if I painted his apartment I could have it. So I did. Been fixin' it up ever since."

Opie let out a low whistle. "Nice." He smacked Jax on the arm. "Ollie'd like to get a load of this."

"She'd like the custom work," Jax said. "Hey, you should come by my mom and stepdad's shop sometime. Teller-Morrow. We work there after school most days."

"Sounds cool. Olivia work there too?"

Jax and Opie shared a quick glance. "Nah," Opie said. "She did, up until a couple weeks ago. I guess her boyfriend didn't like it."

Juice made a face. "He a blond guy in a pink shirt who drives a red BMW?"

"That's him," Jax said with a glower. "Why?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "Just saw 'em together. Seemed like they were fighting, maybe." He paused. "Guess it's none of my business, but she looked kinda…I don't know. Weird. Not super happy."

Another look passed between the boys. Jax grimaced. Opie's mouth twisted. Jax' brow quirked.

Finally Opie said, "Guy's an asshole. Also the richest little prick in the county, so nobody can say anything to him—not even us. But he can't really say anything to us, either, so we just all ignore each other."

Juice wondered what that meant. Who were Jax and Opie that the richest kid in town couldn't fuck with them? Why did their names command so much respect? He had a feeling, from what Opie had just said, it didn't have anything to do with money.

"That why she's goin' out with him?" he said, his forehead wrinkling. "Because he's rich?"

"Nah," Jax said. "I mean, probably not. Not really Ollie's style."

"Tara says she's experimenting," Opie said with a snort.

"Hm," Juice said, a brief, skeptical noise. Finally he hitched a shoulder. "Well, like I said, not really my business. I should get home. Still have shit to unpack."

"Cool, man," Jax said. "Tomorrow come with us to the shop. You need some extra cash, we can find somethin' for you to do."

"Don't listen to him. He's just tryin' to pawn his hours off on somebody else."

Juice grinned. "Extra cash never hurt nobody. If you got work for me, I'm down."

"Awesome. Oh, and tomorrow you should park by us." He pointed across the lot. Two bikes stood side by side, and Juice's mouth quirked in appreciation. "Sometimes people act like dickheads about motorcycles, try to knock 'em over and shit. But nobody'll mess with yours if it's with ours."

"Hey, Teller!" a voice called from the school building.

Jax' attention was immediately on the speaker, and his face broke out in a grin. Juice followed his eyes and saw Tara jogging their way, a matching smile stretching her lips. She leapt at Jax and he caught her. They kissed for what seemed like forever while Opie and Juice shared amused looks.

Finally they broke apart and Tara dropped her feet to the ground. "Hey, Ope," she said. "Juice. Good to see you again. Oh, this your bike?"

"Yup," he said.

"I invited him to TM tomorrow, babe. He said he might wanna work a bit."

She snorted. "Your mom's gonna be pissed to lose her free labor."

"True, but Gemma's always lookin' to adopt someone new," Opie said. "I think they'll kinda cancel each other out."

Juice remembered what Opie had said about Jax' mom earlier—that she scared the shit out of him—and he wondered if they were talking abut the same person. Maybe Jax had two moms. And a stepdad. Weirder shit had happened, and this was California.

Jax must've caught something in Juice's expression, because he clapped him on the back. "Don't worry about Gemma, bro. She'll love you. Just don't call her _ma'am_. Ever."

"Or _Mrs. Morrow_," said Opie.

"Just _Gemma_," Tara said.

"Er, right. I'll keep that in mind."

Jax threw his arm around Tara. "C'mon, baby," he said. "Let's head downtown and I'll steal you somethin' real pretty."

"Such a romantic, Teller."

"Only the best for my girl," he said with a laugh.

"Later, man," Opie said. "If you get here before us tomorrow just park over there. Don't matter where."

"Sure," he said. "Thanks." He wanted to say something else about Olivia, about the sense of unease he had about her boyfriend, but he knew it wasn't his place. Instead he just shook his head and buckled on his helmet. "Later," he said as he mounted.

Jax tossed Tara over his shoulder and she whooped. They both waved as they walked away, and Juice watched them go for a minute before he cranked the bike and rolled out the lot.

He envied them. They seemed really happy, and Opie looked content to be the third wheel. He wondered why Olivia was with the pink-polo wearing asshole instead of Opie. Seemed like they'd make the perfect little foursome.

Not his business. He was just glad they'd accepted him into their group so readily. He wondered why, but he thought it was probably better not to question his good fortune. Back home his bike had been just another thing people had given him shit about, but here it looked like it was a way in with Jax and Opie.

And, from everything Juice had seen so far, that had to be a good thing.

* * *

When Olivia got to the kitchen the next morning her dad was already there. He had poured her a glass of juice and set the cereal box on the table. He worked second shift at the lumber mill, but he always tried to be up to have breakfast with her. Last night had been his day off, so he looked better rested than most mornings.

She kissed his cheek as she went by, and he twisted in his chair to look at her. "You look nice this morning, pumpkin," he said.

She wore a black flower-print baby doll dress and black combat boots. Her hair hung down her back, and she'd pulled it off her face with a maroon velvet headband. She'd taken extra care with her makeup, lining her bright eyes in careful black and covering most of her freckles with foundation.

"Thanks, Daddy," she said. "You sleep well last night?"

"For once, yep." He studied her across the table. They had the same red hair, but his eyes were blue; she'd gotten the green from her mother. Otherwise she looked like a feminine version of him, and no one could ever mistake them for anything but father and daughter.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he said. "You didn't have much to say when you got in last night."

"Oh." She poured milk over her cereal and played with the spoon. "TJ and I had a little fight, that's all. No big deal."

"Hhhmm. I hope it all works out okay."

"I'm sure it will," she said with a shrug. There was a familiar honk from outside. "There he is now."

"You haven't eaten your breakfast," he said with a frown.

"Not hungry," she said and poured the cereal down the sink. She ran the water and flipped on the disposal.

"Wait, Ollie, before you go—"

She paused at the door and turned back, her expression distracted. If TJ had to honk twice it would not bode well for the rest of her day. Her father pulled off his reading glasses and smiled at her.

"I know how hard you've been working at school, pumpkin, and I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad, but—"

"I know. You're going to be late. I just wanted to tell you I've made a decision about the Cougar."

Her eyes went wide. She'd been begging her father to let her drive her grandpa's 1969 black Mercury Cougar since the day she got her learner's permit two years ago.

"You make honor roll again this semester, and it's yours. I'll even pay the insurance."

Her mouth fell open. "Daddy, are you serious?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh my God!" She flew at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you so much! I know I can do it. I did great on all of my midterms, and—"

"I know, pumpkin. That's part of what helped me decide."

Outside TJ honked again and Olivia bit her lip. "I've gotta go. Thank you. I love you. Thank you!"

He laughed. "Get going. You're welcome and I'll see you tonight."

She hugged him one more time and ran for the door. Snagged her backpack from where she'd hung it on the newel post and hurried out to the car.

TJ's scowl transformed into a smile when he saw her. "You look nice," he said.

She smoothed her skirt as she got into the car. "Thanks. You told me once you like this dress."

His grin widened. "I do! You have very nice legs." He squeezed her thigh and she resisted the urge to move his hand lower.

"I'm so sorry I made you wait," she said. "My dad needed to talk to me about something."

"Oh?" he said. "Nothing bad, I hope."

"No, actually. He said if I make honor roll this semester he'll give me the Cougar!"

His brows drew together and her excitement faltered. Oh shit. TJ hated the Cougar. He thought it looked low-class, and was too much loud, brutish muscle car for a girl.

"I suppose you can trade it in," he said in that neutral tone that always meant trouble.

"I probably wouldn't be driving it much anyway. I mean, I have you…right?"

That seemed to restore his even keel. "Exactly. I can take you back and forth from school, and I always drive when we got out—so where else would you need to go?"

"Nowhere, really," she said.

"That's right." He turned into the school parking lot and into his usual spot. He stopped her as she reached for the door handle. "You haven't forgotten about the game tonight, right?"

"Of course not. I'm always at your games."

TJ was quarterback of the football team in addition to Homecoming King. It was just another thing for Opie and Jax to tease her about.

He flashed his white, even teeth and kissed her. "Katie will pick you up at five, so make sure you're ready."

"Katie?" she said. "Katie Adams?"

"What other Katie is there?"

She could think of three off the top of her head, but she knew he meant Katies who mattered in high school hierarchy. "Um. I was going to go with Tara."

His jaw tightened and his bright blue eyes narrowed just a little. "Katie is my _friend_, Olivia. I just assumed you would want to go to the game with _our_ group, and not…Tara Knowles." He said it like one might say _pond scum_—and when he said _our group_, he meant his group, of course, because Olivia had never hung out with Katie Adams in her life.

She touched his arm, a brief brush of her fingers. "I'd love to go with Katie. It was sweet of you to arrange that." She kissed him on the cheek and he seemed mollified. "I'll tell Tara I have other plans."

"Thank you, Olivia." He turned to look at her, and his head tilted. "You almost got your freckles covered up. Getting there!"

TJ thought redheads should have flawless, porcelain skin, and while Olivia was lucky enough to suffer from very few breakouts, her freckles bothered him. She'd always liked playing around with makeup, so she didn't really mind it that much.

"I love it when you wear your hair down like that."

"I know you do," she said. "I wanted to look nice, like we talked about yesterday. Especially since it's game day."

"I can tell. Practically perfect." He kissed her and hopped out of the car. She knew to sit still and wait, and sure enough a few seconds later her door opened. She climbed out with a smile, and he grabbed her hand, squeezing hard enough to make her flinch.

She saw Opie, Jax, and Juice by their bikes on the other side of the lot. Tara's Cutlass had just pulled up nearby, and she hopped out and waved. TJ's attention was elsewhere, so Olivia nodded in their direction.

"Oh, there are Katie and John," TJ said. John Patric was on the football team, too, and he and Katie had been one of SanWa South's power couples since freshman year. "Come on," he said and tugged her hand.

She followed after him with one more glance back at her friends. They watched her go with puzzled expressions she could read even from this distance. She shrugged a shoulder in a sort of helpless _I'm sorry_ gesture before she smiled up at TJ and fell into step beside him. He draped a possessive arm over her shoulders, and she summoned a smile for his friends as he re-introduced them.

Katie Adams wore fashionable Guess? jeans and a loose-fitting color block sweater that probably cost what Olivia's dad made in a week. The pert blonde eyed Olivia up and down and offered a saccharine-sweet smile that didn't touch her cornflower blue eyes.

"You look so cute today, Olivia. I think that combat boots and dresses look is just so _brave_. Don't you, Becky?" she said to her best friend, Rebecca Alan.

Rebecca giggled. "Very Courtney Love," she said with an avid nod.

She refused to let these nasty little bitches with their expensive cars, flashy clothes, and plastic noses drag her down. "Yeah, without all the needle tracks," Olivia said with a wry smile.

John hooted out a laugh. "That's funny! Needle tracks! Good one, Olivia!"

It really wasn't that funny, but she smiled anyway. Then she caught sight of TJ's expression: lips a tight, whitened line, eyes squinted; and she knew she'd hear about it later. He wanted to show her off, but he didn't want her to take the spotlight from him—and he sure as hell didn't want another guy paying her any attention.

"You comin' to the game tonight, Olivia?" John said, making things worse in his easy-going, affable way.

She opened her mouth, but TJ cut her off before she could speak. "She was, but unfortunately she has other plans. A family thing."

Her jaw snapped shut. What…? He'd blind-sided her with that one, and she had no idea what her next move should be.

Katie laughed and laced her arm through Olivia's. "Don't be _silly_, TJ! I'm sure Olivia's smart enough to figure out how to get out of it. Don't worry, Olivia. Becky and I will pick you up at five and we'll have so much _fun_."

TJ looked exasperated, but Olivia knew he'd never argue with Katie. "I'll call my dad during lunch," Olivia said. "I'll tell him I have to stay late for something and I can't go to the—family thing—tonight."

"See?" Katie said to TJ. "I could tell she was smart, because the smartest girls never feel the need to put as much as attention into the way they look. It's only airheads like Becky and me who need to be pretty to attract a really great guy like TJ."

"Don't worry, Katie," Olivia said in a voice like honey, "with the advances they're making these days in plastic surgery, you'll be able to keep your looks for a long, long time."

John guffawed. Becky giggled nervously, her dark eyes darting from Katie to Olivia and back again. Katie looked like she'd swallowed a lemon, but the dig had been so carefully wrapped in the compliment there wasn't really anything she could say.

Olivia glanced over at TJ, and the thunderous look on his face told her she'd pay for it later. At the moment, though, she didn't give a fuck. It was worth it to knock Katie Adams down a peg or two.

* * *

_This chapter was really hard for me to write._

_I'm cruising along pretty well, but I have a feeling bumpy times are ahead, writing-wise, so any reviews you guys wanted to toss my way...well, I think you know the drill by now. :)_


	3. Living Less

More Juice/Olivia interaction, you say? Your wish is my command...

(though somehow I think this isn't what you had in mind)

* * *

**give me up  
****i confess  
i feel as though ****i'm living less  
****the strangest gravity affects my way  
because i was born incomplete  
drowning in the brevity**  
**kind of like the road you're traveling on**  
Better Than Ezra, "Everything in 2's"

Olivia had almost forgotten about Saturday's shopping trip to Stockton, and if she hadn't decided to check her AOL when she first woke up she probably wouldn't have remembered at all. She had several messages from Tara dated last night, all asking where she was. Finally the last one said she was going to bed, and she'd be by at ten to pick Olivia up.

It was nine-thirty. "Fuck," Olivia muttered.

She took the world's fastest shower and threw on a pair of torn jeans, one of her dad's old Genesis concert tees (from before Peter Gabriel left the band, he was always quick to remind her), with a cream and red plaid flannel button down over it. Her hair in a thick braid down her back and the combat boots from yesterday completed the look, and she was stabbing a pair of hoops into her ears when she heard the Cutlass outside.

She shoved her wallet in her pocket and hurried outside. Tara waved when she saw her, but her face scrunched when she got a closer look.

"Hey," she said as Olivia slid in next to her. She had on ragged cut-offs over black tights, a white t-shirt, and boots almost identical to Olivia's. She'd recently gotten her hair cut, and it fell around her face in careful layers.

"Hey. You look cute. Sorry about last night. I went to the game with a bunch of TJ's friends and I didn't get in till late."

"Yeah," she said. "No big." She drummed her fingers against the wheel and put the car in gear. "You okay? You look kinda beat."

Olivia waved a hand. "Didn't get a lot of sleep."

"Ohh," Tara said, laughing. "I see how it is."

She made a face. "Oh geez, no. Not like that."

Tara spared a moment to wonder why the idea of sleeping with her boyfriend would make Olivia grimace quite _that_ hard, but she didn't comment. Instead she said, "We missed you yesterday. You didn't eat lunch with us, and we hardly saw you at all."

"Yeah, I guess—um, I guess TJ likes us to have lunch together. He has free period then."

TJ was a senior, so his lunch period was later than theirs, but somehow he'd been able to rearrange his schedule to have free period and lunch back-to-back. Some days Olivia thought there was nothing TJ Flanary wasn't able to talk someone into.

"Right," Tara said, doubtfully. They were quiet while she merged onto the highway, but once the car was cruising along she cast Olivia a quick glance.

"So if you weren't with TJ last night, why weren't you sleeping?"

"Didn't say I wasn't with him," she said, her eyes trained out the window.

"You guys get into another fight?"

She hitched a shoulder. Tara couldn't see her face, but she knew her body language well enough to tell she didn't want to talk about it. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Ollie, um. So we were talking yesterday—"

"About what?" she said and whipped her head around. "About me?"

"Well, yeah. Nothing bad, just—"

"Just what, Tara? Just that you don't like TJ? I know he's not a biker, and I know he's got money, but really. I don't get why you guys hate him so much."

Tara wrinkled her nose. "It doesn't have anything to do with his money. We just think he's a jerk."

She rolled her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "I swear the only thing that would make you and Jax happy is Opie and me getting married tomorrow and popping out the next generation of SAMCRO within nine months."

Tara's laugh was a bright burst, like fireworks. "Olivia! Jesus!"

"Sorry," she said with a grudging grin. "I know that's not what you meant. I'm just tired."

"You know I love you, right?" Tara said.

"Duh," she said, the dimple in her chin flashing.

"I get that you and Opie didn't work out. I wish it had, but whatever. You can't always get what you want."

"But if you try sometimes—"

"You just might get what you need!" Tara finished.

They both laughed, and just like that the tension was broken.

"Let's not talk about TJ. I'm sick of talking about TJ and thinking about TJ and just—TJ. Let's have an awesome day and try on super cute clothes that we can't afford and eat bad food at the food court. Yeah?"

"Sounds like a plan," she said with a wicked grin. She cranked up the radio and Stone Temple Pilots blasted through the speakers. Cool wind filled the car as they opened the windows, and they sang along to song after song until Olivia twisted the dial down.

"What?" Tara said.

"I saw the new guy with you guys yesterday," she said and lifted a brow.

"Oh. Yeah, he's cool. A little—I don't know. Like he's trying too hard. But whatever. He's new. That's always weird, especially in the middle of the semester." She cleared her throat and concentrated on switching lanes. Their exit was coming up.

"He's gonna be working at TM, I guess," she finally said.

"Huh," Olivia replied. "I bet that makes Jax happy."

She grinned. "It was his idea."

"Naturally. What's Gemma think of him?"

"I think she thinks he's cute. She told him he had a week to show what he could do, and after that they'd talk money."

"Wow, only a week? She _must_ think he's cute."

Tara chuckled. "He is, kinda."

"Uh oh. You thinkin' of steppin' out on the dashing Mr. Teller?"

"Ha! That'll be the day. No, Ollie. I just noticed." She cut her eyes over. "Can't believe you didn't."

"Of course I did," she said with a frown. "I'm not _blind_."

"Uh huh," Tara said. She managed to find a decent parking place and snatched it up before an Explorer could steal it.

Olivia rolled her eyes and climbed out of the car. "Come on. I thought we weren't talking about TJ."

"Who mentioned TJ?"

"Not a soul." Her head fell back and she let out a long groan of frustration. "Tara, I'm so fucked."

"What? What now?"

"I've got to get a dress for fucking winter formal and I'm basically broke. I really miss the extra money I got from TM."

Tara scowled and locked the door. "Does TJ know how much you and your dad counted on that? I mean, it's not like he's ever had to worry about money."

"It's not really a great idea to mention that part. We've got kind of a Blane/Andi thing going, and I don't think he likes to be reminded that I'm Andi."

"Who's Duckie in this scenario? Jax? Opie? The new guy?"

There was a silence while they both thought it over. They burst out laughing so hard they doubled over, and a woman glared at them as she went by.

"Stuff it, you old bat," Tara said between her giggles, and that just made Olivia laugh harder. The woman looked scandalized, but she kept walking.

"You're awful," Olivia said.

Tara shrugged. "We weren't even doing anything, Jesus. People are such assholes."

Olivia grimaced in agreement. "Let's hit the pretzel place first. I'm starving."

"You know you have something else in common with Andi, too—besides the red hair and the stunning fashion sense."

"Someone needs to bring the eighties back."

"If only we'd been born ten years sooner," Tara said.

"I do prefer crippling recession to an economic boom, don't you?"

"Quit being practical, Ollie."

"My b. So what's this trait I share with one of Molly Ringwald's most signature characters?"

"Andi sewed her prom dress. You could make something for winter formal. I mean, you probably wouldn't have time to do it from scratch, but we could get something at, like, the thrift store, and you could rework it. An Olivia Gable original. Haute couture."

"As long as it's not pink. Despite what the movie's title says, redheads do _not_ look pretty in pink."

"I know, Ollie. That's basically your life philosophy."

"Changing pop culture-inspired misconceptions one heart at a time," she said. Her expression sobered and she tilted her head. "It's not a bad idea, though. I could work on it while TJ's at practice."

"Oh, he doesn't make you go to those too?" Tara said, dryly.

Olivia flashed her a brief glare. "He doesn't _make_ me do anything, Tara."

"Right. It was one hundred percent your idea to quit TM."

"Tara—"

"I know! I'm sorry. No more TJ talk. Promise." Suddenly her hand shot out and she grabbed Olivia's arm. "Isn't that the new guy?"

Olivia looked where Tara was pointing and choked out a laugh. "Holy shit. He's with Asia Martinez? He's only been here three days!"

They watched with matching expressions of disbelief as Asia stuck her tongue so far down his throat she probably knew if he still had tonsils. Her hand was high on his thigh, and her chest was plastered against his.

"Oh my _God_," Tara said in a strangled voice. They both pressed their hands to their mouths and choked on laughter.

"Wow," Olivia said. "He doesn't waste any time."

"It's Asia Martinez," Tara said with a snort. "_She_ doesn't waste any time."

"True," Olivia said. "I guess she nominated herself SanWa South's official goodwill ambassador. Greetings to Queens, New York."

"And points south."

That set them off again, and by the time they pulled themselves together, Juice and Asia had disappeared into the crowd.

"Aw, too bad," Olivia said. "I really wanted to go say hey."

_"You're_ awful."

"What?" she said, all big innocent eyes. "I don't have anything against Asia."

"Hhmm," Tara said. "Just get your pretzel and shut up."

Jax had fooled around with Asia for a while summer after freshman year, when he and Tara had been on the outs. She'd caught them together, making out in the SAMCRO clubhouse, and she still got mad whenever she thought of it.

"Maybe Jax introduced them," Olivia said.

"Seriously, Gable. You're my best friend, but I will cut you."

"Oh, Tara," she said with a dramatic sigh, "don't be so _grumpy_. Let me buy you a pretzel and you can tell me all about how much you hate Asia Martinez and her big dumb boobs."

Tara wove her arm through Olivia's and rested her head on her shoulder. "You're a true friend, Ollie. Really."

"Mmhhmm. Keep that in mind next time you decide to give me shit about my boyfriend."

Tara let that pass without comment, because however deep her reservations about TJ Flanary went, ultimately it was Olivia's life. And maybe they were wrong; maybe TJ was a lot cooler than he seemed. Olivia was smart, and not traditionally a taker of shit. If TJ pushed her too hard she'd dump him, no matter who his daddy was.

* * *

It was only a few weeks until the formal, and Olivia knew whatever she managed to scrape together had to look amazing. If she weren't perfectly turned out TJ would have a _lot_ to say about it, and she would never. Ever. Ever admit it had anything to do with lack of money.

And so she found herself the next Saturday at TM. She'd taken Tara's advice to make (or remake) her own dress, but even materials were expensive, and she was really strapped for cash. She saw that Gemma's car was there and scowled a little. She had hoped to deal with one of the guys instead; they would give her a day's work to do and not ask a bunch of questions.

Gemma would want to know _why_.

Olivia waved at Chibs, but he was too busy to talk to her. Good. She didn't like the look on his face, a sort of _where have you been this better not be about a boy_ look. She ducked into the office and Gemma glanced up from the receipts she was sorting. She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, well, the prodigal returns," she said.

Olivia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I've been gone like a month, Gem."

"One incredibly _long_ month in which my love-besotted son bitched and moaned every time I made him come in rather than go out with his girlfriend."

"I'm sure it was good for him. Character building."

"Good luck with that," Gemma said. She rose and enfolded Olivia in a hug. "We missed you, sweetheart. You comin' back?"

"I heard you already replaced me."

Gemma jerked her chin toward the window and led her that way. "If you mean the new kid, he's not bad. Smart. Works hard. Doesn't talk back, unlike some people I could name."

"Hum," Olivia said with a little snort. "Sounds like you don't need me at all."

"I'm sure we could find _something_ for you to do. It's Saturday; always need extra hands on Saturday." She paused and fixed Olivia with a shrewd look. "Money gettin' tight?" she said.

Olivia frowned. "I'm gonna work for it, Gemma."

"I know. I just thought you might need a little advance."

"Um." She looked down and scraped her boot against the floor. "I mean. Dad's picking up a lot of extra shifts, but—"

"It's never quite enough. Yeah, baby, I know." She squeezed her shoulders and sighed. "You're welcome here any time. I wasn't lyin' when I said we miss you, new kid or not."

"Thanks, Gem. I really appreciate it."

"Uh huh," she said. "Jax said you quit because of some boy, but I told him he was full of shit. Ollie? _Our_ Ollie? She'd never do somethin' like that."

She shifted her weight. "Er, well…"

Gemma's mouth twisted. "Uh huh. Who is he?"

"Ahh…TJ…Flanary?"

Gemma blinked at her. "Are you kidding me?"

"I don't know what you've heard, but he's really—"

"A nasty rich little shit? Yeah. Big fuckin' surprise."

"No, Gem, come on. He's—I mean he's—he's pretty okay."

"Wow, sweetheart, that's one hell of an endorsement." She leaned down to look Olivia in the eye, and she was wearing her full-on Mom Face. "Now you listen, because I'm only gonna tell you this once. The Flanarys are bad news. His daddy was an asshole in high school, and I can't imagine the apple falls far from the tree. You get away from that boy, and you stay away. He's gonna be nothin' but trouble."

Her nose wrinkled. "Gemma, I'm seventeen, not seven."

"Seventeen, a daddy who works too much, and no mother to tell you how things are. So I will. Boys like that, baby girl? They will use you up and throw you away. You will never be good enough. You will never make him happy. It's not your fault; there's just somethin' missing in him. He will _never stop_, and it'll only get worse. You gotta get away from him, Olivia."

"I—" Olivia closed her mouth and looked away. Swallowed back the tears that threatened. "You're right, Gemma: you're not my mother. I don't know what happened between you and TJ's dad, but it was a long time ago. TJ is not his father, and I like him. I'm sorry everyone in this goddamn family has such an issue with that, but it's _my_ life."

She shook her head and backed away. "You know what? I think I'm good after all. I'm sure the new kid is all the help you need right now."

She spun around, and she jerked at the sound of Gemma's voice. "We may not be blood, but we are family, Ollie. I'm just tryin' to look out for you."

"I appreciate that," she said without looking back, "but I really don't need it." She slammed out of the office, and Gemma let out a long sigh.

"You keep tellin' yourself, sweetheart," she said. "You know where we are when that boy breaks your heart." _Or your face_, she thought with a bitter twist to her mouth.

Olivia stomped to her car with her head down and her shoulders hunched. Fury simmered through her. Gemma had no right. She didn't even _know_ TJ. Fine, maybe his dad was a jerk, but TJ was—

TJ was a jerk, too, sometimes, but not _always_. He could be really sweet. And he was really supportive about Olivia's plans for college, which was something Gemma had always been dismissive of. He could be critical, but he just wanted her to be the best she could be. And he had a reputation to maintain, after all—not just at school, but in the _town_. It was already a risk for him to be dating the daughter of one of his father's employees; she couldn't _look_ like Mill trash, too.

She was absorbed in her thoughts and her anger and she didn't even see Juice hovering around her car. She ran right into him, and he grabbed her arms before she could topple backwards.

"Whoa," he said. "Sorry. I said your name, but I guess you were off in your own little world."

She glared up at him. "What the hell are you doing? Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Uh." He blinked. "Chibs gave me a break, and I saw this car. I thought I'd check it out."

"You could _ask_ first!"

He glanced over his shoulder at the car, then back at her. "Is it yours?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Why was she yelling at him? He hadn't done anything. It was Gemma she was mad at. Gemma. Not herself. Not TJ. _Gemma_.

"Yeah," she said, her voice softening. "Technically my dad's, but hopefully it'll be mine soon."

"Wow. That's awesome. I mean, you don't see many of these around. What is it? A sixty-nine?"

Her mouth curved despite herself. He looked so excited. "Yeah," she said. "Good call. It was my grandpa's; he bought it new, and he was really finicky about it. My dad got it when he died, but I've been doing most of the upkeep on it."

"Really? Cool. And your dad's gonna give it to you?"

"He said he would if I made honor roll this semester." She flicked her fingers in a little shrug. "Right after my mom died I sorta goofed off a lot and let my grades slip. I've been tryin' to get them back up, because I wanna go to college. That means scholarship."

Juice hesitated. "What happened to your mom?" he said.

"Um."

She tucked her thumbs in her back pockets. Juice tried to ignore how the pose made her boobs thrust out like _right_ under his nose. He kept his eyes steady on her face and forced himself not to look down.

"Car wreck. My thirteenth birthday," she said, shortly.

He winced in sympathy. "Shit, man. That sucks."

"Yeah," she said with a quick, wry smile. "You're not lyin'." She stepped around him and stuck the key in the driver's side door. "Let me pop the hood. You probably want a look at the engine."

He let out a low whistle as he propped the hood up. "Damn. Is that the four twenty-seven FE?"

"Yup," she said. "You know your shit, Ortiz."

"Fuck yeah. I love these old muscle cars. How many horses you got?"

She hitched a shoulder. "Hard to say. They didn't ever really release specs on these. Four hundred-ish? Somewhere in there."

"Nice. I bet it fuckin' _hauls_."

"You kidding? My baby kicks ass." She let out a frustrated sigh. "Which is probably why my dad's waited this long to let me have it."

"You're lucky he didn't say when you graduate or something."

"True."

A silence fell as he inspected the engine, but finally he looked up at her and frowned. "Are you working today? Jax said—"

She waved a hand. "I quit. Jax was right. Nah, I just stopped in to say hi."

"Oh," he said.

She thought he maybe sounded disappointed. Probably about her car not sticking around. He lowered the hood and smiled.

"Haven't seen you around much this week, except for shop."

She ran a hand through her hair and looked away. "Got a lot goin' on right now. I'm trying to get something ready for the winter expo. Studying, of course. Formal's coming up. Spending time with TJ."

"TJ," he said. "Right."

"Jesus Christ, you too?"

He held up his hands. "I didn't say anything. I don't know the guy."

"That's right," she said, angry all over again. "You don't. And unlike everyone else who feels like they have a right to lecture me, you don't know _me_, either. So just—keep your opinions about my personal life to yourself."

"Whoa, hey, I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," she said. "I think I have a pretty good idea of what you _meant_." She yanked the door open and threw herself in the car. "I'd get out of the way if I were you, Ortiz. Would hate for anything important to get run over."

He jumped back as she started the engine and peeled out. What the fuck had just happened? Apparently he'd hit a nerve. Olivia was cute, and her weird sculptures were kinda cool, and she was pretty funny, but it seemed like he always managed to say the wrong thing when he was around her. He and Asia might not talk much, but at least she didn't get pissed at him over random stupid girl shit.

* * *

It was the Tuesday before the start of Thanksgiving break, and no one was paying a damn bit of attention to anything in class. Juice was in metal shop with Opie, Jax, and Olivia, but she was keeping her distance. She claimed it was because she needed to finish her entry for the winter art expo, but they weren't even due until December sixteenth, and that was almost three weeks away.

Jax was cutting what looked like snowflakes from a sheet of thin copper. Opie had his history book open and was furiously studying for the test he had after lunch. Juice was doodling avatar designs for a video game he'd been dreaming about writing for the last year.

Opie threw his pencil down with a snort of disgust. "I give the fuck up. If I don't know it by now it don't matter anyway."

"Think you're gonna pass?" Jax said.

He hitched a shoulder. "Fuck if I know."

Mr. Collins cast a sharp glance their way and Opie lowered his voice.

"I think so. Donna helped me study last night."

Juice smirked. "I bet she did."

"Shut up, man, she did. I learned a _lot_."

Jax snorted out a laugh. "Not about American history, I bet."

Opie blushed and looked away. "Whatever," he muttered. Then his expression changed to one of exasperation. "I think she wants me to take her to the formal."

"Shi—uh, _heck_, dude," Jax said with a glance at Collins, "you gonna do it?"

"Not sure I got a choice. I like her a lot, and I think she really wants to go." He paused. "You and Tara could come with us. You too, Juicy."

His brows drew together. "With Asia?"

Opie tried not to grin. "That might not be the best idea, bro."

"How come?"

Jax shifted in his seat. "Me and Asia sort of hooked up one time. Tara and I were havin' a thing and.… Anyway, Tara caught us and she's hated her ever since."

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Juice said. "I wouldn't be hangin' out with her if I knew."

"Don't matter," Opie said. "She's not like your girlfriend or anything."

"Well—no," Juice said, lamely. "She's not really that type."

"That's the truth," Jax said.

"What about Dana Riley? Tara got any reason to hate her?"

Jax and Opie laughed. "Nah, man. You should know she used to go out with TJ Flanary, though."

Juice made a face. "He always been such a prick?"

"Yup, pretty much," Jax said. "Comes with bein' rich and spoiled, I guess."

Juice glanced across the shop at Olivia's slight figure bundled up in welding gear. "Too bad Olivia's goin' with TJ." At their curious looks he shrugged. "She could come with us otherwise. But I don't think he's gonna want to hang with us, and if I ask Dana that'd be pretty awkward anyway."

"Nah," Jax said. "He and his crew'll probably do some kinda pre-party at the Country Club, and by the time they even show up they'll be lit."

"Ollie won't be," Opie said with a glower.

"Why not?" Juice said. "She doesn't drink?"

"Her mom was killed by a drunk driver," Jax said. "She might have like one beer, but that's it."

"Huh," Juice said.

"She'll get stoned now and then," Jax said, lowering his voice even further, "but she don't really drink."

His gaze drifted over there again, and she chose that moment to pull the helmet off. She wiped an arm across her brow and their eyes met. Her mouth twisted in a sardonic little smile. She inclined her head in acknowledgement, and he looked away to find Opie staring at him.

"Don't, man," he said.

"What?"

He and Jax shared a look. "He just means Ollie's kinda…"

"Difficult," Opie said when Jax trailed off.

Juice huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I've noticed."

"We're not that worried about this thing with TJ because it's not gonna go anywhere," Jax said.

"It never does, with Ollie," said Opie.

"She's a great girl," Jax said, "and she's a great friend."

"You just don't want her as a girlfriend," Opie said.

Jax waved a hand at Juice's look of consternation. "Not because she's not sweet or interesting or fun to be around, because she's all that stuff."

Juice had serious doubts about using the word _sweet_ to describe Olivia Gable, but he decided to keep them to himself. "Then what?" he said.

They look at each other again and shrugged in unison.

"She's just kinda cut off," Opie said. "Like, she won't really let anybody get too close. Which is fine if you just wanna mess around—but she's also not the kinda girl you just mess around with."

The warning in the last part was implicit, and Juice got the message loud and clear. "Not like Asia, you mean," he said with half a grin.

"Yeah. Nothin' at all like Asia," Jax said.

"In other words, dude," said Opie, "don't. Seriously—just—don't."

"Right," Juice said. He watched as she took a long swig from a bottle of water and pulled the gloves back on. Replaced the helmet and lit the torch. He shook his head and returned to his doodles.

He knew Jax and Opie meant well, but they didn't have anything to worry about: he wasn't interested in Olivia, and the feeling was clearly mutual. She barely seemed to be able to stand him. Which was fine, because he wasn't interested.

He just wished he didn't know her hair smelled like mint. He could deal with the car thing; other girls liked cars. He could handle the freckles; she wore makeup to cover them up a lot of the time anyway. He could even handle the way her nose scrunched when she was thinking.

But knowing how her hair smelled? That one was probably gonna haunt him—despite how uninterested he was.

* * *

_Nah, Juicy. Not at all interested. Boys are dumb._

_So remember on Come With Me Tonight when I said I wanted it to be a long, slow burn? I want the same thing here, but it's high school, so it's gonna be more like long, slow feigned disinterest and awkward conversations. Also, I mean. Boys are dumb._

_What's NOT dumb are reviews from you, my lovely readers. I noticed an uptick in favs/follows, so I'd love to hear from you guys. :)_


	4. Scared

You guys, I'm so excited about ch7. You're all gonna shit. I mean, I know this is ch4, but...something to look forward to yeah?

* * *

**everything you would be**  
**passed you like a ghost**  
**and kind words are scarce at best**  
**when you need them most**  
Better Than Ezra, "Scared Are You?"

Olivia paused at the door to her room and took a deep breath. She could hear TJ and her father chatting in the foyer, and it sounded like they were getting along. Of course it was hard to tell from banal small talk. TJ was good with parents; he always made a great impression; so she wasn't really worried about that part.

"You've got a very nice home, Mr. Gable," TJ said.

"Oh, please, call me James. And thanks. It's mostly Olivia; I'm hopeless with any decorating type crap."

"She does have a good eye, doesn't she?" TJ said.

She let the breath out slowly and decided it was time to interrupt. She walked down the short hall, and the sound of her heels against the hardwood floor seemed incredibly loud. She stepped into the foyer and paused. Her father and TJ were both staring, and she looked away with a blush.

"Honey, you look beautiful."

"Thanks, Dad," she said with a smile.

"Wow, Olivia. You really do. Amazing."

The smile deepened and the dimple appeared in her chin. "You look great, too," she said. "Nice tie."

Olivia's dress was a simple pale blue satin sheath, well fitted, that came to mid-thigh. Over it was a gauzy float of material that was gathered at one shoulder with a pin that sparkled when the light hit it. She had it cinched at the waist with a thin silver cord, and her finger and toenails were painted the same color. She'd curled her hair and gathered it on top of her head in a coppery tumble.

TJ wore a black suit with a silver tie to complement her dress. He cut a dashing figure with his sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes, broad football player's shoulders and strong jaw. Very All-American.

He opened the clear box he carried and pulled out a wrist corsage made of white roses.

"It's beautiful," she said.

He started to tie it around her wrist, but her father stopped him. "Hang on, I need to get a picture!"

TJ laughed. "Of course. Olivia, turn this way. The light's better."

She did as he directed, and the camera clicked multiple times before he finally slid the corsage over her hand.

"Let me get one of you two together. TJ, put your arms around her. Perfect!"

Olivia tried to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Her dad was obsessed with his camera, and he took five thousand pictures of _everything_. It had started right after her mom died, so she never told him no when he pulled out the camera. But he was going overboard.

"Dad, come on."

"Okay, okay. Sorry. I just can't believe you're so grown up."

"Oh God."

"I don't blame you, Mr. Ga—er, James. If she were my daughter I'd take her picture every day."

It was a surprisingly sweet thing for him to say, and Olivia could practically see the hearts in her father's eyes. She gave TJ's arm a gentle squeeze. "We don't want to be late," she murmured.

"Of course. Sorry, sir. We have friends waiting for us at the Club."

"I got everything I need. You two have fun! Ollie, curfew's pushed back until two, but please don't be any later."

"Daddy—"

"Don't worry, James," TJ inserted smoothly as he helped Olivia on with her coat. "I'll take great care of her."

"Of course you will, TJ." He gave Olivia a quick kiss on the cheek and waved them out the door. "Bye, kids! Have fun!"

Once they were in the car Olivia laughed. "I'm so sorry, TJ. He gets like that sometimes."

"It's okay. He loves you a lot, and with your mom gone—" He broke off with a shrug. "I get it."

He smiled almost shyly. "You look wonderful, Olivia. Perfect, really. We're going to be the best looking couple there."

She grinned and brushed her hand against his arm. "I'll have the best looking date, anyway."

He didn't deny it. After a moment he carefully backed out of the driveway, and once he was on the road he said, "We'll meet everyone at the Club and take a limo from there, but it's easier to drive our own cars that far."

"No, it's great. It's good to have some time just the two of us before we join everybody else."

He beamed. "That's true! Once we get there everyone will want to talk to us."

_You, anyway_, she thought but didn't say.

As if sensing her train of thought, his expression clouded. "I'm so sorry you weren't nominated for Winter Queen, Olivia. I tried to get your name in, but it was too late."

"It's okay, TJ. We didn't start dating until after nominations closed, and before that no one would've thought of it. I'm sure it'll be different at prom—um, if we're still together then."

"Why wouldn't we still be together?" he said.

_Danger, Will Robinson._

"I'm sure we will be, silly. I just don't like to presume," she said with a light laugh.

He relaxed and so did she. "Yeah, right. That makes sense." He paused and cleared his throat. "I want tonight to be special for us, Olivia."

She eyed him sidelong. "I do too, TJ," she said, carefully. "I'm sure it will be."

He flashed a smile. "I'm so glad to hear you say that. I know your curfew is two, and I'll absolutely get you home on time—wouldn't want your dad to worry!—but I was hoping we could leave as soon as Winter Court's announced."

"Why so early?" she said.

"I got us a room at the Carriage Inn. A suite, actually. For just the two of us."

She had absolutely no intention of having sex with TJ Flanary that night, but telling him so right now would spoil the rest of the evening. Instead she let her mouth relax into a curve. "I guess we'll see how it goes, won't we?"

He pounded his hands against the wheel and let out a raucous laugh. "It's gonna be an amazing night, Olivia! I can feel it!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and she found herself laughing along with him. He was in a great mood. As long as she kept things going like this—and somehow managed to artfully dodge the sex issue—it really _might_ be an amazing night.

* * *

An hour later she was wondering what she'd been smoking. They'd met Katie and John, Rebecca and her date Mike, and Heather and Bryan, another pair of TJ's friends, at the Club, and at first it had been okay. Everyone was cordial, and John was goofy enough to break the ice and have them all laughing.

When it came time to order a second round of drinks Olivia declined. She could tell that pissed TJ off, but he didn't say anything. When she ordered a Coke on the third round he glowered at her, but she let it roll off and kept talking to Rebecca.

Then Katie struck.

"Olivia," she said with that sickly sweet smile, "I just _love_ your dress. I don't remember seeing anything quite like it when I was looking for mine. Where did you get it?"

She opened her mouth to lie—a boutique in San Francisco, maybe, or even a friend had found it for her down in LA—but instead she looked Katie Adams right in the eye and said, "That's because I made it."

"_Made_ it?" Rebecca said, amazed. "Like, with your hands?"

She bit off a smart retort and just smiled. "Yep. And a sewing machine."

Katie and Heather exchanged sly looks. "That's _amazing_, Olivia," Heather said. "I don't think I could sew on a _button_."

"I usually have the maid do it for me," Katie said with a shrill giggle that the other two girls echoed.

"My mom taught me to sew," Olivia said, not rising to her bait. "I figured why waste money on an overpriced dress when I could put the skill to good use?"

"How very Holly Hobby of you," she cooed and Heather tittered. Rebecca just looked confused; her admiration had been genuine, Olivia sensed, and she didn't understand why Katie was being so nasty about it.

"Better Holly Hobby than Queen Bitch," Olivia said, her smile bright and keen and cold in total contrast to the sugar-coated warmth of her voice.

John choked on his drink and Heather flushed bright red to the roots of her hair. Katie ignored them both and matched Olivia's piercing gaze look for look. It was clear they understood each other perfectly.

Olivia tilted her head and blinked innocently. "Don't you think?"

A short pause. Then, "Better Queen Bitch than poor white Mill trash," Katie said on a quiet breath.

"Whoa, okay," John said. "I think maybe you've had enough of this." He took her drink from her and gave Olivia an awkward grin. "Never could hold her liquor."

Olivia let out an amused huff. "It's all right, John. It's good for everyone to be on the same page." She set her soda on the table and rose to her feet. "Excuse me for a minute, please."

TJ had sat stiff and furious through the entire exchange, but as soon as Olivia walked away he took off after her. Once they were out of sight he grabbed her arm and dragged her into a quiet corner.

"What the _fuck_ was that, Olivia? Those people are my friends!"

"Yeah, I know. And I'm supposed to be your girlfriend."

"What does that mean?" he said, nostrils flaring.

"It _means_"—she yanked her arm from his grasp—"that it would be nice if you spoke up to _defend_ me when Katie starts doing her catty school girl routine."

"She complimented your dress, Olivia!"

"She was being sarcastic, TJ. Come on!"

He towered over her and glared down his nose. "I cannot believe you embarrassed me like that. You _made_ your _dress_? What the fuck were you thinking?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "My dad works at the mill, and he doesn't make that much money. You know that. My only extra spending money came from my job at TM, and I quit so that we could spend more time together."

"Are you trying to say it's _my_ fault you didn't have enough to buy a dress?"

"What? No. Where did you get that idea? I'm just explaining to you that a formal dress is expensive as fuck, and I had other things to spend my money on."

His eyes narrowed. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that," he said, his voice soft and dangerous.

_Fuck_, she thought. He hated it when she cursed, and she always tried to watch her language around him. If he hadn't been mad enough before, now he was practically nuclear. The quieter he got, the worse it was.

"If you needed money you could have asked me," he said. "I would have bought you any dress you wanted. I'm your boyfriend; I like to give you things."

"You already give me too much, TJ."

"Oh, _too_ much? _Too much_? So what if I didn't give you anything? Would you bitch about that, too?"

She rubbed her forehead and tried to gather her patience. "I'm not b—complaining. At all. I love the things you give me. I'm just saying it's a little embarrassing to have to ask you for money to buy a _dress_. That's above and beyond a pair of earrings or a shake at Lefties."

"I can't believe you don't trust me, Olivia! After everything we've said to each other, everything I've shared with you—you don't even trust me enough to loan you a little money!"

Of course to him several hundred dollars—the amount she'd need for a dress that had a hope of matching up to his friends'—was like nothing to him. She knew she'd never be able to explain it, and if she tried it was just going to make them both angry.

"TJ, I'm sorry. Let's just go back to the party. I'll apologize to Katie if you want me to."

"It doesn't do any good for me to tell you to apologize to her, Olivia. You need to _want_ to apologize, because you were incredibly rude to her."

Her eyes flashed. She took a step closer and lifted her chin. "I will want to apologize to that snobby, nasty, shallow _cunt_ the same day we all go to a winter formal in _Hell_. And if you'd like me to tell her that, I'll be more than happy to."

She spun on her heel and stomped away, and for a moment he was so flabbergasted he couldn't move. Then his brain caught up and he chased her again. This time when he grabbed her arm she let out a little cry.

"That hurts, TJ!" she said.

He ignored her and yanked her into the empty coat check. He gripped her by the biceps and the look on his face was something she'd never seen before. She felt a sharp zing of fear and tried to swallow it down.

"You listen to me, you selfish little brat. I am risking everything going out with you. Do you get that? I'm overlooking your shabby little house and your ridiculous, pandering father and your despicable _friends_ because I love you enough to not care about any of that. And you, a fucking _Mill rat_, dares to call Katie Adams a cunt? You dare to embarrass me in front of my friends, who are your betters in every single way? You should be falling all over yourself thanking them for even speaking to you, not nitpicking how they do it!"

It was a lot, but one thing stuck out even more than the comment about her father. "You…you _love_ me?"

"Obviously!" he hissed. "No one does this much for someone unless they're in love!"

Her mouth fell open. She jerked out of his hold and stumbled back. "I changed my mind," she said. "I'd like you to take me home, please."

"Excuse me? I tell you I love you and you want me to take you _home_?"

"Yes," she said. She drew in a shaky breath. "Please."

"We're going back to the party. How will I explain to everyone if we leave now?"

"I think after what just happened between Katie and me they'll understand."

"I'm not skipping this dance, Olivia! I'm going to be crowned Winter King and—"

"You can still go. I'm just not going with you."

For once he ignored that she'd interrupted him. "I can't be seen without a date!"

"Tell them I drank too much and got sick."

"Everyone saw you drink one fucking beer."

"Look, TJ, I don't care what you tell them, or if you tell them anything at all. If you don't take me home right now, I'm going to find a phone to call Tara and have her come pick me up. It's your choice."

She could practically see steam coming out his ears. But then, like a flipped switch, he went still. He smoothed one hand over his tie and another through his hair. "Of course, Olivia." He fished in his pocket for the valet ticket and handed it to her. "Let me just go make our excuses."

He paused at the door and said without turning around: "I'm sure you can handle finding our coats. Not so many in here tonight."

* * *

He was completely silent the entire way, and she sat gripping her seatbelt with a stomach aching from nerves. She'd never known him to be so quiet for so long. It could not be good.

He pulled up in front of her house and cut the engine. Still nothing. He wouldn't even look at her.

Finally he said, "I meant what I said, Olivia. I love you."

"Thank you, TJ," she murmured, for lack of anything else. She blinked and pulled herself together. "I mean, thank you for telling me. I hope you understand that I'm not quite as sure about my feelings. Not because of _you_, but just because—ever since my mom died—"

He held up a hand. The one area where he gave her any leeway was on the subject of her mother. "It's all right. I know you'll say it when you can." He turned toward her and his blue eyes were pleading. "In the meantime, please try to figure out what you want. I can't keep on like this."

"What do you mean?" she said.

"You give me such mixed signals, Olivia. Earlier tonight you were ready to go to the hotel with me, and now suddenly you have to go home. We've been together almost two months, and I haven't put any pressure on you about sex, but it's getting frustrating. You're kind of a tease. What am I supposed to think?"

"Um." She swallowed. No pressure about sex? Right. His inability to keep his hands off her boobs and/or ass in any given situation was absolutely _no pressure_. Not to mention that he touched her thighs probably more than she did, and her solitary sex life was healthy and flourishing, thank you—or it had been, up until about three weeks ago.

But obviously she couldn't discuss any of that with TJ, and she sure as hell couldn't mention that her self-imposed personal dry spell had been inspired by a certain someone _other_ than TJ who'd suddenly started popping up in her fantasies.

She realized she'd been quiet too long. "Being manhandled and yelled at doesn't exactly put me in the mood. I mean, I don't need poetry and roses, but give me a break," she said, lightening her tone to make it a joke.

He scowled. "I'm sorry about my behavior. Katie was out of line, and I should have defended you. I'll talk to her."

"Please don't."

"No, she needs to know she can't talk to my girlfriend like that."

She sighed a little. "I know you mean well, but honestly that'll just make it worse. How about instead you don't make me hang out with them anymore?"

"Them? You mean our friends?"

"_Your_ friends, TJ. My friends are Tara and Jax and Opie and Donna and—and Juice. Most of the people in my shop classes. And that one weird guy in English Lit who wears gloves all the time and randomly talks in rhyming couplets."

He made a face. "You mean Chucky _Marstein_? Olivia, those aren't friends; they're freaks!"

"That's not a nice thing to call someone. Just because they aren't popular—"

"Or _normal_!"

"Doesn't mean they aren't worth knowing."

He let out a hard sigh. "I will never understand your obsession with that SAMCRO riffraff."

"I don't know, TJ. Maybe I'm just riffraff myself."

He slumped back in his seat and glared at the steering wheel. "Fine, Olivia. Have it your way. Keep your freaks. You don't have to hang out with Katie any more if you don't want to."

She released a quiet breath. "Thank you for understanding."

"Didn't say I understood," he grumbled. He rubbed a hand over his face and cast her a sidelong glance. "Are you coming to the game on Friday?"

The winter formal was always the Saturday before the final home football game of the season. This year South was number one in the conference, and Friday's game was against the number two team. If they won, they were in the playoffs. If they lost—well, better luck next year. The art expo entries were due the next day, and she'd hoped to beg off on the football game to do any last minute work.

Now, in light of tonight's disaster, she was sure that wouldn't be possible.

"Yeah, TJ. I'll be there."

His face lit up in a smile. "You know you're my good luck charm, Olivia. We wouldn't stand a chance if you weren't there."

Sometimes he was so sweet and boyish it touched her heart. She knew that sweetness was there, and when she made him happy it shone through like the sun from behind a cloud. She just had to figure out how to keep the clouds at bay and maybe they'd have a chance.

"Of course I'm coming to your game," she said. "I wouldn't miss it." She frowned and looked away. "I'm sorry about tonight, TJ. I mean it. But I think it's for the best; I feel like I'm getting a migraine."

Her migraines were legendary, not just among her friends but also around the school. She'd gotten one in freshman English one time and the teacher wouldn't let her go to the nurse. She'd thrown up all over the floor, and ever since the word "migraine" was like a magic get-out-of-jail-free card.

Sure enough, TJ's eyes widened in alarm and he unlocked the car doors. "Better get inside and lie down before it gets worse. You've got your pills, right?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna go take one now. See you Monday?"

"Right here, bright and early."

She leaned over to kiss him, and for a split second he cringed away. She smothered a smile as he dropped the tiniest, briefest peck on her lips.

"Night, TJ," she said as she opened the door.

"Goodnight, Olivia. Get some rest."

He waited until she was in the house and had turned off the outside light before he sped away. She let out the breath she'd been holding and leaned back against the door.

"Ollie?"

Shit. She'd forgotten her dad would be home. She mustered up a smile and wandered into the den. "Hey, Daddy," she said.

"It's barely ten, pumpkin. What are you doing home so early?"

"I think I'm getting a migraine, so I asked TJ to bring me home."

"Oh no! Your dance!"

"It's okay, Dad," she said with a tired smile. "I wasn't that excited about it anyway."

His face creased with concern as he studied her. "You worked so hard on your dress, and you look so pretty."

"There'll be other dances. Prom in a few months." She leaned over to drop a kiss on his temple. "Love you, Daddy. I'm going to bed."

"Love you too, sweetheart." He patted her hand, and she could see the worry in his dark blue eyes.

"Olivia?" he said as she turned away.

"Hm?" she said over her shoulder.

"You'd tell me if there were something wrong, wouldn't you? You know I'm here for you if you need me for anything."

She scrounged up her most reassuring smile. "I know you are. It means a lot."

"And if it's something you don't feel comfortable talking to me about, like a girl thing, you'd go to Gemma if you needed to, right?"

Gemma had taken her to her first OB-GYN appointment when she started her period, eight months after her mom died. When Olivia was fourteen, Gemma had given her an extremely no-nonsense version of the sex talk, including the invaluable tip _if you're not enjoying it, don't bother, because if he doesn't care enough to take care of you, then why should you wanna take care of him? _And then, almost two years ago, Gemma had gone with her the day she went to get a prescription for the pill.

Whatever sort of "girl thing" he might have in mind, she was pretty sure Gemma had covered it.

"Yeah, Dad. But don't worry; I'm fine. I promise."

"Okay, pumpkin. Try to get some rest."

"I will if you'd quit jabberin' at me!" she said with a grin.

He laughed and waved her away. "Go! Be gone! Never more appear in my sight!"

She giggled and disappeared down the hall, and she knew the brief exchange, so typical of their slightly quirky relationship, would assuage his worries more than any number of assurances she could feed him.

Which was good, because she didn't have the head space to deal with her dad worrying about her, too. It was hard enough dodging Tara and Opie. And the new guy, as she still forced herself to think of him after a month, even though she dodged him for completely different reasons.

She closed her bedroom door behind her and pulled the pins from her hair. So TJ said he loved her. He sure had a fucked up way of showing it.

She studied her pale face in the mirror. She barely recognized herself. She'd always been comfortable in her own skin, at ease with her face and her body, but somehow in just a little over two months TJ had made her feel like her freckles were ugly. Her boobs were vulgar. Her ears were too big. The slight pooch of her tummy was unsightly.

"What a fucking asshole," she muttered.

She was sick of making excuses for him. Sick of walking on eggshells. Sick of censoring herself and doing everything he wanted to do and constantly feeding his ego and _still_ getting reamed out by him almost every damn day.

Gemma had been right: she would never be good enough. He would never stop. She had to get away from him.

She rubbed her face with a makeup removing cloth and stared hard into her own eyes. She would wait until after the game Friday, because if she did it before and they lost the whole fucking school would somehow end up blaming her for it. She preferred to stay under the radar, not light it up like the fucking Luftwaffe.

Just making the decision made her feel like the band around her chest—which she hadn't even realized was there—had loosened. She took a huge breath and let it out slowly. One more week. One more week of his bullshit and then she could end it and walk away.

She would be counting down the days.

* * *

_Yep, Olivia's dress is based on Rose McGowan's prom dress from _Jawbreaker_. I'm a writer not a fashion designer. :D I kind of have plans (maybe?) to recreate famous fashions from 90s movies throughout this story bc I'm a dork like that._

_Did you guys see my new cover thingie? Thanks to TeamBlaus4EVER for making the base for me. :) She's got some Juice/OC fic hereabouts if you're lookin' for something else._

_Meanwhile I'm heading into ch8 and would love to hear from you guys. Your words mean so much. :)_


	5. Live Again

Hi again, friends. Yesterday I made a couple of, er...kind of picspams/graphics things for both this and Come With Me Tonight. You can find them on my tumblr (url stupidscalptattoos) under both my "fic-insp" and "soa" tags. The fic insp tag has a bunch of stuff like tattoos and quotes and whatnot, and the soa tag has...I mean. Soa. Lots and lots of soa.

* * *

**give up you're not going anywhere**  
**moonlight illuminates your stare**  
**it's great captivating you**  
**does that trouble you?**  
**do i trouble you?**  
Better Than Ezra, "Live Again"

It had been a long, exhausting week. TJ had been falling all over himself to be sweet and charming, just like the first week they'd been going out. It had been a nice change, but she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He hadn't gone back to winter formal, she'd heard, but he also hadn't said why they'd left. Apparently the biggest rumor was that they'd decided to hit the Carriage Inn early and skip the dance.

Whatever. They'd been dating over two months. Of course people assumed they were fucking by now. And, honestly, they probably would be if it weren't for TJ. Olivia wasn't a virgin, and she wasn't a prude about sex, but there was something about the way TJ touched her—too avid, too possessive. She didn't like it, and it sure as hell didn't turn her on.

It was Wednesday, and TJ was at football practice. Olivia finally had some time to herself and she couldn't have been happier about it. She was catching up on homework and listening to music when the phone rang.

"Hey, babe," Tara said when Olivia answered. "You finally free of the Winter King?"

"Oh, shut up," she said without heat. "Yes, he's at practice."

"Awesome. Wanna hang?"

"Where's Jax?"

"He, Ope, and Juice went off somewhere. I don't know. Didn't ask. C'mon, Ollie, don't leave me all on my own with this amazing dope Jax got me."

Olivia perked at that. "You had me at _dope_. Pick me up?"

"Out the door now. Bye, bitch."

She was waiting outside when the Cutlass pulled up, but Tara honked anyway. It was only seven, so the neighbors couldn't bitch too much. Olivia jumped in the car and Tara revved the engine. They didn't speak; they didn't need to. Olivia cranked the radio and they roared off into the night.

When Tara finally stopped the car it was at an isolated spot that overlooked Charming. From up there the town looked like a winking, sparkling Christmas postcard. Olivia let out a little sigh.

"You'd never know how shitty it is from this far away," she said.

"Funny you should say that," Tara said, but when Olivia questioned her she wouldn't say anything else.

They got out and Tara spread a blanket over the Cutlass' hood. She pulled a baggie from her jacket pocket and rolled a gorgeous joint. Held it up for Olivia's inspection, and she nodded approval.

"Couldn't've done it better myself."

Tara grinned, lit it, and drew in a puff of smoke. "Nice," she said as she blew it out. She passed the roach to Olivia and they smoked in contented silence for a few. Leaned against the windshield and blew smoke at the sky.

Finally Tara said, "I've gotta get out of this town, Ollie."

"Hum. Isn't that the plan? College? Med school? Then you come home and marry your guy?"

She shifted restlessly. "It's the last step I'm not sure about."

There was a pause. "Shit, Tara, you can't lay this stuff on me right now."

She giggled. "I'm sorry. Okay. I've just been thinking a lot, you know? I mean, it's like my life is planned out. I come back to Charming and marry Jax and he becomes President of SAMCRO and I'm his old lady."

"Baby, you're _queen_ of fuckin' SAMCRO. The new Gemma. That can't suck too hard."

"No," she said with the gravity of the stoned, "you're right about that." She cut her eyes over. "Too bad things didn't work out with you and Ope. He's gonna be Jax's VP, right? And then we'd rule that fuckin' club together."

"Oh my God," she groaned and rolled her eyes. "Opie and I gave it a shot. It didn't work. I guess you'll have to rule the club with Donna."

"I like Donna," Tara said, "but she seems to hate SAMCRO."

"Eh. Can't super blame her. It's a fuckin' outlaw motorcycle club."

"You sound like TJ."

"Bitch!" she said with a laugh. "How the fuck do you know how TJ sounds?"

She took another puff. "He's not exactly subtle about hating SAMCRO."

"I think it's somethin' to do with his dad," Olivia said after a moment. "Like, his dad and Gem have history, and it's not good."

Tara hesitated, and Olivia could sense she wanted to say something. She peered at her through the slight haze of smoke that surrounded them. "What's up?" she said.

Tara gave a restless shrug and shifted her weight. "I don't want you to get mad."

"I won't. Just spit it out."

"So, listen. You know I love you. We all do. And we want you to be happy, you know?"

"Uh huh," Olivia said.

"If you can look at me, look me in the face, and tell me TJ makes you happy, like _really_ happy, then I won't bring it up again. The guys won't either."

Olivia stared at her. "I am too fucking stoned for this right now."

"Ollie!"

She blinked and looked away, over the town laid out at their feet. It did look pretty. She could see the Christmas tree in the square downtown. It was tiny, and distant, but it stood taller than anything else except the water tower.

"Ollie?" Tara prompted, gently, and nudged her shoulder.

"Fuck," she muttered and swiped her face with the back of her hand.

Tara stared at her in alarm. She was crying. Actually _crying_. The last time she'd seen Olivia cry was that day in the hospital when they'd told her what happened to her mom. She'd been thirteen, but Tara was still only twelve—her birthday wasn't until January—and when Olivia's dad tried to herd Tara out of the room, Olivia's small, strong hand had clamped down on Tara's and refused to let go. And so she'd sat with her as she cried, and once the tears had passed it seemed like she might never cry again.

Or so Tara had suspected, because even all through the bullshit that followed—the funeral, the physical therapy for her broken leg and hip, the stares and whispers when she finally came back to school—she'd been stoic and dry-eyed and sort of detached from it all.

Maybe it was just the pot. Tara snubbed out the butt and stashed it with the others back in the baggie. Olivia sniffled and wiped her cheeks again.

"Talk to me, Ollie," Tara said.

She dipped her head and a tear fell off her nose to land on the blanket. "It's awful, Tara. _He's_ awful. You've got no idea. He makes me so fuckin' miserable."

Tara opened her mouth to speak, but Olivia held up a hand to stop her.

"I feel so stupid," she said. "I never thought I'd let a guy treat me the way he does. And I don't even know _why_. I don't even like him that much! And we're not having sex, despite all those rumors about Saturday, so I can't even claim _that_ as an excuse. I just—I keep thinking it'll get better. Like it's _my_ fault, and if I try harder he'll come around and be the sweet, thoughtful guy I see sometimes."

"Has he hurt you, Olivia?" Tara said, her voice hard and soft like steel wrapped in felt.

"Hit me, you mean? No, nothing like that. And, honestly, I'm not sure he would. I mean, I don't know. Maybe? But not until he was more sure it wouldn't send me running the other way." She tried to forget the ugly bruises on her arms from when he'd grabbed her the night of the winter formal; she bruised easily, and she was sure he hadn't meant to grip that hard.

Tara took a long breath and let it out. She was too stoned for this, too. "Ollie, look, if you're unhappy you need to break up with him. There's no reason to make yourself miserable."

"I know. And I'm going to. After the game Friday we're done."

"Why are you waiting?"

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "He says I'm his good luck charm. They haven't lost a game since we started dating and I started going to all of them. If I broke up with him and they lost it'd be, like, the end of the fucking world and somehow it'd all be on me. Total fucking bullshit, but I don't want to hear it."

Tara laughed. She couldn't help it. Olivia glared at her, but after a few seconds her mouth curved and she started to laugh too.

"Tara, Jesus, how am I being held hostage by a fucking football team? How is this my life?"

"I don't know, babe. I just can't wait for Friday to get here so you can kick that asshole to the curb." She paused. "Can I tell Jax about this?"

Olivia's brow furrowed. "Why?" she said.

"So that if TJ acts like a dick after you dump him you'll have some backup. He needs to know he can't push you around. You might be a total shrimp, but you've got big friends."

"I'm _short_, Tara, not a _shrimp_."

"Sure thing, Ollie. Whatever you say."

"Oh fuck you!" she said and they both collapsed against the car, overcome by giggles.

Olivia waved a hand as she tried to get herself under control. "Jax and Ope don't need to mess with TJ. His dad could make real trouble for Clay and the club if he wanted to, and I wouldn't put it past TJ to go whining to daddy if he came home with a black eye."

Tara made a low noise. "Probably right," she said.

"God, Tara, roll another one. This heavy shit is dragging me down."

"Here," she said and passed her the baggie. "You do it. You know I go all fumble-fingered."

Olivia rolled it with exaggerated attention. "Just like a delicious burrito," she said.

"I love burritos."

"You think that taco truck near TM is still open?" Olivia said as she lit it.

"Oh my God I love that taco truck! What time is it?"

She held up her bare wrists and lifted a brow.

"Oh." Tara giggled and checked her watch. "Not even nine. Your curfew still ten?"

"Yup, but my dad's working tonight. Won't be home till almost midnight."

"Okay. One more round and then we'll go."

She fell onto the windshield next to her friend and they stared up at the stars as they smoked. "It'll all be different next week," Olivia said. "Lunch together again, I can go back to TM, and my art expo project will be _done_. I can just concentrate on exams and making honor roll."

"So that you can get the Cougar, fuck yeah."

"Fuck yeah."

They laughed and knocked the back of their hands together like they were making a toast.

"Hey, so, we should find you someone to go out with. Like, a temporary thing. Until you're over TJ."

"Um. Like who?"

"I don't know," Tara said, and Olivia could see through her casual act like a pane of glass. "Hey! What about Juice?"

Now that was unexpected. "The new guy?"

"Olivia, he's been here over a month."

"He'll be the new guy until there's a new new guy."

Tara acknowledged that with a brief tilt of her head.

"Isn't he with Asia Martinez?"

"Ugh. It's not like they were dating or anything. Just hooking up."

"There's territory I want to tread," she said and rolled her eyes.

Tara glared at her and she held up her hands with a laugh. "Sorry, sorry, wasn't thinking." She took a puff and inhaled hard. "Didn't he take Dana Riley to formal?" she said through a breath of smoke.

"He did," Tara said. "But he'd drop her in a second if you gave him even the tiniest opening."

Olivia choked. Tara smacked her on the back and she wiped her streaming red eyes. "What the fuck, Tara?"

She took the joint and shrugged. "Come on, Ollie. You have to've noticed. He thinks you're totally cute. Anyone can tell."

"Seriously, I think you've had enough. Juice Ortiz does not think I'm cute."

Tara stared at her. "You really never noticed?"

"He likes my car. That's about it. I mean, seriously, look at the girls he's hooked up with! Asia and Dana? Like, find two people more different from me and I'll give you a hundred bucks."

They were both tall (taller than Olivia, anyway) and willowy, with smooth olive skin, dark hair, and big dark eyes. Nary a freckle between them, and they could actually go out in the California sun without SPF 80.

Tara spluttered out a laugh. "Oh my God, Ollie, it's adorable how clueless you are." She hitched a shoulder. "Honestly I think Jax and Opie might've said something to him, because right before Thanksgiving he kinda stopped making puppy eyes at you quite so hard."

Her brows drew together. "Said something? Like what?"

What business did Jax and Opie have to say anything to anyone about her? And what the fuck could they have possibly said besides _she's got a boyfriend so forget it_? And _besides that_, when the fuck had Juice been making puppy eyes at her and how hadn't she noticed?

"I don't know, dude. Maybe they didn't. Maybe he just realized you're with TJ and he should give it up."

"I think you're imagining things. I don't think there was anything for him to give up. I mean, he made that comment to me the first day we met, but he was just bein' a guy. Have boobs will get hit on, right?"

Tara snorted. It wasn't a problem she had too much, but the situation had improved a lot since she was fourteen and flat as a board. Of course, Gemma was the boob standard to which they all aspired, and maybe that was a rack bar set too high.

"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Ollie. I mean, you did something to attract TJ Flanary, right?"

Her nose scrunched. "Yeah, I don't know. That was maybe a fluke."

They had Algebra III together, and apparently math wasn't TJ's strong suit. Olivia had noticed him struggling, but she had enough experience with boys and their fragile egos that she didn't offer to help him. She just did. Quietly and discreetly, under everyone's radar, and one day when she'd been wearing a scoop-neck t-shirt and shorts that showed off her legs he'd asked her out. She thought the "have boobs" adage still applied in that case, too.

TJ was only the second steady boyfriend she'd ever had, after Opie, and she had no idea if either example counted as really _attracting_ someone, per se, especially in light of how her relationship with TJ had fallen out.

"You ready for tacos?" Tara said as the silence lengthened.

"Forever ready for tacos."

She slid off the hood and wobbled a little. "Uh. Maybe you should drive."

"Lightweight," she said as she took the keys and they swapped places.

"You might be right," Tara said. She climbed in the car and buckled her seatbelt.

"I usually am. But what about this time?"

She bumped Olivia's shoulder with the back of her hand and laughed. "About Juice. Maybe after this whole thing with TJ finally wraps up you should stay single a little while. You know, get your bearings back."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "That's kind of my plan. Remember all that about concentrating on my work and studying and having time to myself?"

"Mmm," Tara said in a skeptical sort of way. She played with the radio knob a minute, but when she couldn't find anything good on she twisted it silent.

"Or maybe you're just sexually frustrated," she said. "TJ might be a jerk, but he's a cute, well-built jerk, and you haven't had sex with him after two goddamn months. You could just fuck Juice and then discard him. He'd probably recover. In time."

She covered her mouth as she snickered. "Wow," she said. "Just wow. Why don't _you_ fuck Juice and discard him? I promise I won't tell Jax."

"Ha. Fuck you, Gable. Not all of us are into casual sex."

"Who says I'm into casual sex?"

"Please. I know what happened this summer between you and Justin Fitzhugh."

"Oh." She giggled. "Well. Can you blame me?"

There was a brief silence. "No. If it weren't for Jax, and I'd been given half a goddamn chance—"

"Uh huh. And that was _one time_. I'm seventeen and I've only slept with two people; I think that's not so bad. Besides, you know how I feel about that slut shaming bullshit."

"I'm sixteen and I've slept with one," she said, her tone lofty and snobbish, but Olivia recognized it for the teasing it was.

"Yeah, well, if I had someone like Jax maybe I could say the same thing."

"Whoa, bitch. Hands off my man."

"No worries, kid. Jax is all yours. I just said someone _like_ Jax. Except maybe not as blond. I think I'm done with blonds."

Tara cast her a sly smile. "Juice isn't blond."

She sighed and shook her head. "Tara. I am not fucking Juice Ortiz. Get over it. Find someone else to help you with your vicarious thrills."

Tara chuckled and leaned back in the seat. "Whatever, Ollie. I give it six months."

"Six months till what? I hook up with Ortiz?"

"Nah. Six months single. Maybe not even that long. But on the bright side, you're always incredibly productive when you're single. So it'll be a very _creative_ six months."

"I'm done with you. Done. This conversation is over. Have you finished the book for English Lit? I keep falling asleep."

Recognizing that her friend really meant it this time, Tara picked up the new thread of conversation and ran with it. Apparently the book was putting her to sleep, too, but she still had a lot of opinions on it.

Olivia was content to listen to Tara chatter as she concentrated on the road. Her mind wandered a little, and she found herself thinking about Juice Ortiz. Tara was nuts. He was definitely not into her. He barely spoke to her, and the longest conversation they'd had was about her car—and that had ended with her yelling at him and driving off in a huff.

Yeah, he was cute. But a lot of guys were cute. As Tara had pointed out, TJ was cute, too—at least until he opened his mouth and his personality ruined everything.

She thought back to the day before Thanksgiving break, when she'd caught him staring at her across the shop. Something about the look on his face had made her blush, and she'd been glad she was still hot from the welding hood. Hopefully he hadn't noticed.

They had free period at the same time, and he often spent it in the metal shop. So did she, but luckily she was so busy with the sculpture for expo that they hadn't really had a chance to chat. Luckily? That was a weird way to think about it. He was perfectly okay, and she had no reason to avoid him.

She grinned to herself. She would _quit_ avoiding him, after Friday, just to prove Tara wrong. He wasn't into her, and she wasn't interested in him, either. He was kind of actually dating Dana (unlike the thing with Asia), so that solved that problem _anyway_. She'd make friends with him, because it was stupid to avoid someone who was apparently part of their group now.

It'd be fine, and Tara could quit snickering about it.

* * *

Friday morning during her free period Olivia was back in the metal shop, like always. Her sculpture was almost done, but she wasn't satisfied with it. She'd been working for the last twenty minutes, but now she'd stripped the jumpsuit half off and paced circles around the jumble of metal.

It's like there was something missing. She wasn't even sure it was anything tangible. Always before when she looked at one of her sculptures she _felt_ something. Sometimes it was frustration. Occasionally pride. But this one just seemed…flat.

"Not really your best work," a familiar voice said from behind her.

She made a face and cast a look over her shoulder. "Aren't teachers supposed to be supportive of their students?" she said.

Mr. Collins chuckled as he came to stand beside her. "You know I'm your biggest fan, Ollie, but it's also my job to be honest. This one's just…I don't know."

"It's missing something," she said. She rubbed the heel of her hand across her forehead in frustration and he patted the top of her head.

"Cheer up, kiddo. Not everything's the _Mona Lisa_. And, hell, even Leonardo wasn't happy with that one."

She cast him a curious look. "Why do you teach shop, Mr. Collins?"

He seemed taken aback by the question, but he took it in stride. "I don't know. Because I enjoy it?"

She made a face. "I just meant why aren't you teaching art or off somewhere tearing upstart young hopefuls apart with scathing art criticism for the _Times_ or something."

He tucked his hands in his pockets and ducked his head to hide a grin. "First of all, I think the _Times_ has an art critic, and secondly I prefer the weather here."

"Artful dodging worthy of a Dickens novel," she remarked.

"Ha!" he said, a brief, sharp laugh. His expression turned serious and he circled the sculpture like she'd just done. "I don't know what to tell you." He propped a hip on the counter behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's going on? What has you so blocked? This just isn't like you."

"No disrespect, Mr. Collins, but I don't—"

"Really want to talk about it. Yeah, I know." He closed the space between them with one long stride and took her gently by the shoulders. "You've got a lot of talent, Ollie, and a lot to say. Don't let anyone stifle that—especially not some guy."

Her face twisted. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm not deaf or oblivious just because I'm a teacher. I know you're seeing TJ Flanary."

"Mr. Collins—"

She was interrupted by the sound of the shop door. They both glanced that way, and Juice stopped short when he saw them. Mr. Collins took a step back and slid his hands in his pockets again.

"Mr. Ortiz," he said. "You're here early."

"Nah," said Olivia. "He's actually late. He usually spends his free period here, too."

"Such dedicated students." He paused and fixed Olivia with a stern look. "Think about what I said, Ollie. I meant it."

"Thanks. But don't worry. It's not going to be a problem going forward."

He studied her a moment, his warm brown eyes probing. Finally he nodded. "Glad to hear it." He gave Juice a clap on the back on his way out the door. "Do me a favor and give her your opinion on the sculpture, yeah? I think she's designing by committee now."

She stuck her tongue out at his back, and when the door closed behind him she shook her head in frustration. "He's cool, but nowhere near as cool as he thinks he is."

Juice dropped his backpack on a table and took a wary step toward her. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"Like what?" she said.

"I don't know. Just kinda the way he was looking at you—"

"Oh my God. Don't be weird, Ortiz," she said and rolled her eyes. "I know guys have all sorts of freaky schoolgirl fantasies, but that's really not my scene."

He snorted out a laugh. "How the hell do I always manage to piss you off? I swear I couldn't be better at it if I actually tried."

She flicked her fingers. "You didn't piss me off. Just—he's a great teacher. Probably my favorite. I spend a lot of time in here, and I'm basically the only girl he teaches, except for the occasional freshman. He could get in a lot of trouble if some stupid rumor got started. People are always ready to assume the worst, you know?"

"Yeah," he said with a frown. "Sorry, I didn't really think of it like that."

Her brows quirked. "Must be nice being a guy."

"What's that mean?"

"Nothing," she said. "Just, like…you can afford not to think that way. Because when you do well in a class taught by a woman it's like, 'Wow, that Juice Ortiz sure does apply himself!' But when I do well in a class taught by a man I must be fucking him."

"Olivia, come on. Cut me some slack here."

"I didn't mean you were saying that—not exactly—but believe me I've heard it before. It gets old, that's all."

He frowned and looked away. It was really easy to forget that other people had their own shit to deal with. He struggled to remake himself, break away from that old geek persona that he'd had back in Queens, and he sort of assumed a girl like Olivia Gable didn't have a lot of problems. She was dating maybe the most popular guy in school. She was cute. She had a tight group of friends. He thought her biggest worries were what to wear to winter formal and making the grades to get her daddy's car.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It was a dick thing to say."

"Yeah, it was," she said, but he could tell she was softening.

He rocked back on his heels. "So, uh. What's up with your sculpture thing?"

"Nothing, really."

"Mr. Collins said—"

Her mouth twisted. "I know what he said. Ignore him." She shook her head and scraped her hair back. "It's really nothing."

He started to say something else, but she kicked the torch out of her way and headed toward the break room. That time he didn't think it was his fault. Whatever ate at her apparently affected her work, and while he didn't know much about art, he understood there was a difference between the sculpture featured in that photograph in the break room and the one that stood here. It wasn't anything he could put his finger on, but he figured that was the problem.

For some reason he thought it probably had to do with TJ Flanary. That guy was like some kind of human plague; he infected everything he touched and fucked it all up. Juice had no idea what she saw in him, but maybe it was a girl thing. He clearly didn't know a fucking thing about them, and he doubted someone like Olivia had the patience to enlighten him.

The idea made him laugh, and he was still chuckling as he opened his math book to finish last night's homework. Like Olivia Gable would ever spare the time to do anything other than yell at him. That'd be the day.

* * *

_Yesterday when I said ch7 was going to blow your minds I actually meant ch8. And I was working on ch9. Chapter 9 really WILL blow your minds, and it's kind of the make-or-break of this fic. Anyway. On to writing ch10 now. :)_

_I'm thinking of breaking this fic up into two parts. My original plan was to have the first half be in hs, and then the second half be like after Olivia comes back from college. Now I think I might write this one 100% in high school, and end it just before she leaves...then come back and write a sequel with the post-college stuff. I say that bc I don't want another 300k word fic, and I don't want to be worried about length. Just write what I wanna write, ya know? And for those of you who are more interested in the high school aspect, you won't get shortchanged. And those of you who prefer 20-somethings won't get shortchanged either! :D_

_But obviously for any of that to happen I need to write. Y'all know the drill. (I hope everyone realizes me asking for reviews is just shameless begging; I'd never hold the story hostage for reviews. That's kinda tacky.)_


	6. Anywhere But Here

Thanks for the reviews, m'loves. :)

More from The Continuing Adventures of Biker Boys in High School and the Girls Who Love Them in 3, 2, 1...

* * *

**maybe i should drop you at your door  
or leave tonight and vanish up the shore  
anywhere but here  
**Better Than Ezra, "At the Stars"

They won the game, much to Olivia's relief. If they'd lost TJ would be un-live-with-able, and she really wasn't in the mood to pull him out of any sort of post-football funk. She needed to get this over with and get back home. The expo entries weren't due until five o'clock tomorrow evening, so if she managed to sketch some things up tonight, she could get Mr. Collins to let her into the metal shop first thing in the morning. Obviously it wouldn't have the scale she was used to, but maybe something smaller was better anyway.

She and TJ were in his car, and he hadn't shut up about the game since they'd left the stadium almost an hour ago. She could tell he was keyed up because he hadn't even waited for the rest of the team; he'd grabbed her up almost as soon as the game was over.

He'd passed for some huge amount of yards (Olivia's eyes glazed over when he started spouting stats) and he'd only had one incomplete pass, which was totally John's fault, the fucker, and he'd even run the ball for the game-winning touchdown.

She smiled and nodded and made approving noises, and she wasn't really paying attention when suddenly she realized he hadn't said anything for several seconds. She blinked and adjusted her expression. "Sorry, my ears are kinda ringing from all the cheering and stuff. What was that last bit?"

He leaned closer, and his blue eyes were avid. "I just said I couldn't have done it without you. You're my good luck charm, Olivia. We're gonna kill in the playoffs, and it's all because of you."

He looped a thick lock of her hair around his hand and sniffed it. Made a little face. "I thought you were using that strawberry shampoo I gave you."

"Um. I was. But it dried my hair out, so I went back to my old kind."

"That was very expensive shampoo, Olivia," he said with a scowl.

"I know, but it just wasn't the right kind for my hair. You can probably take it back. Maybe exchange it for another one. I'll tell you what I use and—"

"No," he said and pulled hard enough to make her wince. "I like _that_ one. It smells like strawberries."

"Let go of my hair, TJ," she said, her voice soft.

"Why?" He pulled again. "I thought you liked it when I got rough."

"I've never liked that. I'm not sure where you got that impression."

"Olivia, I'm tired of the way you tease. It's been over two months. I've got needs, you know."

She lifted a brow. "No one's stopping you from taking care of them on your own."

He yanked and she let out a little cry. "Ow, TJ, Jesus! That's attached!"

"That's _disgusting_, Olivia! I would never—"

"No one cares if you masturbate. You're a seventeen-year-old guy. I think it's kind of, like…understood."

"What have I told you about interrupting me?" he said, his voice a soft murmur.

Too late she realized the danger she was in. She'd let herself be fooled by his post-game high, but honestly elated TJ was just as dangerous (if not more so) than angry TJ. Now he had a large chunk of her hair clamped in his fist and his eyes were bright and cold.

She tried to laugh it off, a low teasing ripple. "I was just messing with you, sweetie. Hey, why don't we go to Lefties? Everyone'll be there, and I'm sure they want to see the big hero."

He refused to be distracted. He used her hair to haul her closer, and she whimpered at the tug on her scalp. "No Lefties tonight, Olivia. I told you I'm tired of the way you tease me."

"I'm not—I'm not trying to tease. I'm just…I'm not really ready for sex. Okay?"

"Not ready? Is that what you told Opie Winston? Or did you let him fuck you in the back of that nasty old pickup of his while you begged him for more?"

Her face twisted. "That's none of your business, and I really don't like your tone. Let _go_ of my _hair_ and take me home."

"Typical Olivia," he sneered. "The second you don't get your way you pitch a fit. Poor little princess. Someone dared to call her on her bullshit and she can't handle it."

"Fuck you, TJ," she hissed.

Big mistake.

He shoved her back against the door and was on top of her before she could react. He clamped his mouth over hers and bit her lip with a sort of savage glee. His hand was already on her thigh, and groping higher under her skirt.

"TJ, stop!" she said.

"Don't pretend, Olivia. I know how sluts like you are. It's all _no, no, no_, but really you're wet and begging for it."

"TJ!" she said, a naked plea. "TJ, no. Just stop. Let me go right now and we'll never talk about this again. Please—"

He cut her off with another bruising kiss, and he squeezed her ass hard enough to make her whimper. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and the scalding heat of them woke her up. She bit his tongue, and he pulled back with a roar.

"Vicious bitch!"

"Get off me, you motherfucker!" She raked her nails down his cheek. They were short, but she'd put enough force behind the blow to leave a nice red trail.

He slapped her, but from his awkward position it didn't do much more than piss her off. He dove at her again, but this time she brought her knee up and he landed on it balls-first. His face went white, then crimson, and he let out a wordless moan. She kicked him away, yanked at the door handle behind her, and tumbled out of the car.

"I said _no_!" she screamed before she spun away and took off running. She wiped her face, but suddenly she felt like she'd been punched in the gut and she doubled over in agony. _Stop, stop, stop_, she thought. _You can fall apart later. Right now you have to run. Get away, get away, get away!_

She surged to her feet and started again, but that's when she heard the car behind her. TJ pulled up along side and put his window down.

"Olivia, baby, I'm so sorry. Get in the car."

"Get the _fuck_ away from me, you rapist motherfucker."

"Sweetheart, no, I would never—I thought you liked it rough. I would never hurt you. I'm so sorry, Olivia. Please get in the car. I'm not even mad about your language."

She stopped. When she pivoted toward him he flinched back from the rage in her face. "There is not a goddamn thing wrong with my fucking language, you arrogant little prick. Drive away right the fuck now, TJ. If you ever speak to me again I swear to _God_ I will tell every large, angry, leather-clad biker in SAMCRO what you tried to do to me tonight, and I guarantee they aren't afraid of your daddy. Not when it comes to punishing a sniveling rapist piece of shit like you."

His mouth fell open. He spluttered. "You can't threaten me! My father is—"

She pressed her hands against the roof of his car and leaned down so they were nose to nose. "I know exactly who your father is, you pissant. Do I look like I'm afraid of your father? You just tried to rape me, TJ. You slapped me. You put your hand up my skirt, and if I hadn't kneed you in the balls I have a good idea what you would've done with that hand. Stay _away_ from me."

She pushed off the car and stomped away.

"Fuck you, Olivia!" he called after her. "You dirty cocktease slut! You're gonna regret this!"

She gave him the finger without looking back, and a moment later his car roared past her. She stood in the wake of the exhaust and dust and only realized then that her purse and jacket were still in the car.

She was ten miles outside of Charming, roughly two miles from the nearest phone, and she had no money, no means of transportation, and no coat.

"Fuck it," she muttered and started walking. Better than being with TJ.

* * *

Some days Juice thought he might have a handle on this whole…being alive thing, but then other days he realized he didn't have a fucking clue. Today was one of the latter. He and Dana had gone out, and he'd thought things were going great, then all of a sudden she'd gotten pissed and stormed off, right out of the theater before the movie could even start.

When he caught up with her and tried to apologize, she asked him if he even knew why she was mad. He had to admit he didn't, and that had just made her madder.

Then she told him he'd spent the first hour of their date talking about Olivia Gable.

He'd scoffed at that, and she looked like she wanted to slap him. He tried to explain what had happened that morning in shop, how she'd been upset about her sculpture, and she told him she _knew_ because he'd already told the story _five times_ and if she had to hear another word about fucking Olivia Gable and her precious fucking _sculpture_ she was going to cut his dick off.

That was a threat that carried weight, so he'd told her again he was sorry and asked her to come back in to watch the movie, but she'd wanted him to take her home.

So he had. And he'd tried to apologize _again_, and kiss her goodnight, but she'd just slammed the door in his face and left him standing on her front porch feeling like an asshole.

Had he really talked about Olivia for an hour? There was no way. Maybe he'd mentioned her, because Dana had asked him about his day, but—no. It wasn't possible. She wasn't even that interesting!

He'd gotten back on his bike and started to drive home. But then he took a right instead of a left and ended up…he didn't even know where. He wasn't super familiar with the backroads of San Joaquin County yet, but he figured he couldn't get _too_ lost. So he just drove. The wind felt amazing on his face and the bike felt powerful beneath him and for the first time in weeks his mind just shut down and he stopped thinking so fucking hard.

He had just rounded a bend and kicked the speed up a bit when he noticed the figure on the side of the road. Small, but in the dark he couldn't make out the features. One thing he did notice was the cocked thumb. He frowned and slowed as he past, and when he recognized her he braked so hard he almost dumped the fucking thing.

Olivia lifted a brow and flashed one of those sardonic smiles, somewhat spoiled by a swollen lower lip. "Smooth, Ortiz. Been drivin' that thing long?"

He was astounded. What sort of bizarre bit of fuckery was this? "What the fuck are you doing way out here? Are you walking? Where's your coat? What happened to your face?"

She held up her hands. "Whoa, cowboy, slow down. One question at a time."

He paused and looked her up and down. She shivered a little in the wind, and there was something about her eyes…had she been crying?

"Olivia. What's going on?"

She looked away and wrapped her arms around herself. "Could we not talk about it on the side of the road? I could really use a ride home."

"Um." His brows drew together. "Yeah, sure. I've got an extra helmet…" He walked the bike to the shoulder and dropped the kickstand. Dana had just been wearing it a couple hours ago, so it was right on top in the storage compartment. He held it out, and she smiled a little.

"Thanks," she said as she strapped it on.

"No problem." He hesitated and stripped off his jacket. "Here. It'll be cold."

She opened her mouth, no doubt to refuse him, but then she seemed to change her mind. "It's already cold," she mumbled as she took it from him. It was too big on her, of course, and she wrapped it around her rather than zip it up.

He climbed back on the bike and gestured for her to mount up behind him. She rested her hands tentatively on his waist, but as he kicked the engine over she closed her eyes and pressed her face into the collar of his jacket.

The leather was warm from his body and smelled like him, a combo of sandalwood and cigarettes and the brisk night air. Tears threatened again, but she blinked them back. She didn't want to cry anymore. She was exhausted and aching and she just wanted a cup of tea and her bed.

It didn't take her long to realize he had no idea where he was going. She poked him in the side and he pulled the bike over again.

"Are you lost?" she said.

He cast an irritated look over his shoulder. "No. I'm just—taking the long way."

"Ortiz."

He scowled and looked away. "I've only lived here a month."

She grinned. "First of all, turn around. You're heading away from town. Just—go that way, and I'll let you know where to turn."

She hugged him tighter as he hit the road again, and her breath was warm on his ear and neck as she directed him. He could feel her boobs against his back even through the leather jacket, and she smelled amazing. It was incredibly hard to concentrate on what he was doing, and part of him wished he hadn't run into her at all.

Except then she'd still be on the side of that damn road thumbing for a ride, and whatever situation had put her there, he knew it couldn't be good.

He pulled up in front of her house, and she dismounted stiffly. He cut the engine and swung his leg over.

"What are you doing?" she said.

"It doesn't look like your dad's home. I thought I'd walk you to the door. Make sure you got in okay."

"You can—you can make sure I'm okay from here."

"I could, but—look, I don't know what happened tonight, but I've got a weird feeling it has something to do with TJ. He knows where you live, right? What's to stop him from coming by later on? You know. To say hey?"

He could tell she hadn't thought of that by the way color swept her cheeks and her eyes dropped his.

"Um." She looked back toward the house. "Yeah, all right. My dad will be home in an hour or so. You can hang out till then. Unless you have to get home?"

"Nah. I don't really have a curfew."

Her mouth twisted. "Boys never do."

She unlocked the front door and let him in, then quickly shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to him. "Thanks," she said. "I'd probably be a popsicle right now if it weren't for you." She gestured for him to follow her. "Come into the kitchen. I'm starving."

As she led the way he noticed she was limping. "Did you hurt yourself?" he said.

"Hum? Oh." She let out a little laugh. "It's from the cold. And the walking. And maybe the—the fall. But it's because of the wreck. When my mom died? The car ran into the passenger's side door and I got hurt pretty bad."

"Wow," he said, and then winced at how lame he sounded. "Wait. What fall?"

"Uh." She waved toward the table. "Have a seat. You want anything? I was gonna make a grilled cheese, I think."

"A grilled cheese would be awesome. But, um—here, I'll help." He stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked around. He had no idea where anything was.

She smiled and raided the fridge for cheese and margarine. Pointed him toward the top of the microwave for a loaf of bread.

"You want one or two?" he said.

"Just one. There are chips in the cabinet over there if you want."

He assembled three sandwiches and she got the pan heating. He watched her as they worked, her movements stiff and sore-seeming. He frowned and ducked his head into the cabinet in search of chips.

"So what happened, Liv? You fell out of TJ's car, hit your lip on the way down, and then he, what? Forgot about you and drove away?"

She went still. Her back was to him, but he could tell from the set of her shoulders and the cant of her head that he'd pissed her off. Good. Maybe she'd tell him what that fucker TJ did so he could go bash his fucking skull in.

She slid the first sandwich onto a plate and dropped it on the table. "Cokes in the fridge. It's not really your business, Ortiz."

"I get that," he said. "And I get that you don't want to talk about it, but I think maybe you should. If you don't wanna tell me, okay. Maybe call Tara?" He grabbed the bag of chips and two Cokes—one Diet—and sat down.

She hitched a shoulder and flipped the second sandwich. "She's probably out with Jax. Eat your food before it gets cold."

He devoured the sandwich in four wolfish bites, and when she turned around and saw his empty plate she stopped short. "Hungry, Ortiz?"

"I guess," he said with a blush.

"You're sixteen. Aren't you always hungry?" She gave him the second one, then caught sight of the Diet Coke and lifted a brow. Spun back to make the third, trying to ignore...so what he'd known her drink? He probably just figured her dad wouldn't be drinking the Diet ones and she was the reason they were in the fridge.

"Pretty much," he said. He ate this one more slowly, and he was still finishing it off when she sat down across from him and took a bite of hers.

They ate in silence, both of them uncomfortable with the quiet and, to an extent, each other. He couldn't shake the memory of how her arms felt around his chest, and she couldn't stop thinking about the way his jacket smelled—or the pain in her lip from where TJ had bitten her. And the ache in her hip from the fall and the long walk in the cold. And the goddamn bruise she was bound to have on her ass from his stupid groping fingers.

She shifted in her chair and he looked up at her, his expression wary. "What were you doing in the middle of nowhere at almost eleven at night, Ortiz?"

"You're asking _me_?"

"I think I just did, yeah."

He sighed. "Dana and me sort of got in a fight. Sort of. I guess. I don't know. Anyway, I decided to take a drive to clear my head."

"Lucky for me."

He snorted out a laugh. His brown eyes met her green ones, and the look held for a long time. He didn't ask her again what happened, which was probably why she decided to tell him. But when she opened her mouth, the words wouldn't come. She didn't know how to say it. So instead she stalled.

"He's not a very nice person," she said.

"TJ? No shit. He's so slimy he leaves a trail."

She smothered a giggle and shook her head. "Why did it take me so long to figure it out? Why was I so fucking blind?"

"We all do stupid shit sometimes, Liv. Doesn't make you a bad person, or even, like, wrong. Just—"

"Stupid."

"That's not what I meant," he said with a frown.

Her mouth quirked. "I know it's not. I'm sorry."

"We kind of always seem to get off on the wrong foot, don't we?" he said.

"Seems like it."

"You make me sorta nervous," he admitted in a rush.

"Yup. I'm five foot three inches of pure intimidation." She grabbed their plates before he could say anything else and set them in the sink. Ran the water in the frying pan for way longer than she needed to, and he realized with abrupt horror that she was crying.

He rose slowly to his feet. "Olivia—"

"You can go now," she said. "I'm fine."

He felt completely out of his depth, tongue-tied and awkward and hopelessly clumsy. But he knew if he walked out right now it would be a huge mistake. "Liv," he murmured. He touched her shoulder and she spun toward him. For a moment he thought she might smack him, but instead she fell against him and buried her face in his chest.

He stood frozen for a moment, but finally instinct kicked in and he carefully, tentatively wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his hands to her back and patted gently. Made nonsensical noises that he hoped were comforting, and finally after what seemed like forever she trailed off into quiet sniffles.

"God, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. "I never do this. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You don't need to apologize, Olivia. It's okay."

She pulled back and looked up at him with red, puffy eyes. "I've been terrible to you since you got here, and now you're being so nice to me."

"You haven't been terrible. We just—like I said, we get off on the wrong foot. Like, miscommunication. That kinda thing."

She nodded and sniffled again, and he long-armed it to rip a paper towel off the roll and hand it to her. She gave him a watery smile and dabbed at her eyes. "I hate crying, and now this is like the third time this month."

He frowned a little. "I know it's probably none of my business, but if some guy is making you cry that much he probably isn't really worth it."

"Yeah, no shit," she muttered. She waved a hand. "I think I sort of made it your business when I got snot all over your shirt."

He looked down with a glum expression. "It's one of my favorites, too."

"Thank God for washing machines, right?"

His lips moved in a half-smile. "For real. I'm completely covered in Olivia cooties now."

"You're an idiot, Ortiz," she said with a brief laugh.

"That seems to be your general opinion, yeah."

Her face clouded and she looked away. "That isn't really true at all, and I'm sorry I've given you that impression. I've been—no. There's no excuse for it. I actually—I had kind of planned to. I don't know. Make amends or whatever, and I hoped we could be friends. Since, I mean, you're hanging with us now."

Fuck that sounded shitty. She took a deep breath and tried again.

"I just mean I realized what a jerk I've been to you and there's been no reason for it so I thought I'd _stop_ being a jerk and be friends with you like Jax and everybody. Rather than be the one weird, sulky kid in a group full of actual nice people."

"Well—great," he said. He had no idea how to respond to that. "Um. Did I do something to piss you off? I mean, something specific. Was it what I said the day we met? Sort of—sort of hitting on you like that? Because if it was—"

"No, it wasn't that at all." She lifted her hands in a shrug. "I don't know. Just, do you think we could put it behind us and start over?"

"Yeah," he said, his mouth softening into a smile, "that'd be great." He held out a hand. "I'm Juice Ortiz. Nice to meet you."

She grinned and shook it. "Olivia Gable. I'm the girl who just cried all over you."

"Oh, was that you? I thought it was some other soggy-looking redhead with a fat lip."

Her eyes went wide and her hand flew to her face. "Oh my God. Does it look that bad? Fuck, if my dad sees it—"

"Whoa, take a breath. Nah, it's not bad. But, I don't know. Maybe put some ice on it and go to bed before your dad gets home."

She swallowed. "Yeah. Good idea." She turned toward the freezer, but his quiet voice stopped her.

"Did he hit you, Olivia?"

Her shoulders went tight. She opened the door and stared in at ice cream and Swanson's frozen dinners. Finally she grabbed an ice bag from the shelf and slowly swung back to face him. "He bit me," she said in a strained voice.

Juice almost choked. "He—?"

"Bit me. Just before he shoved his hand up my skirt. Then I scratched his face and kneed him in the balls and jumped out of the car." She took a deep breath and let it out. "So, yeah. Now you know. I was on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere because my douchebag boyfriend—_ex _boyfriend, thanks—who everybody had warned me about tried to rape me." She waved her arm. "Go ahead. Lay it on me."

He stared at her. "He—you—he tried to—? Holy shit, Olivia. Holy goddamn shit."

Her lips moved in a dry grimace. "Accurate summation. Very eloquent."

He made a face. "Olivia, come on. This's serious."

"_You_ think it's serious? I'm the one with a fat lip and his fucking finger impressions in my ass."

His fists clenched and he looked away. The muscles in his jaw danced and his mouth was a thin line. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him. I'm gonna get Opie and Jax, and we're gonna—"

"No!" she said. She grabbed his arm. "Please, Juice. You can't tell anyone, especially not Opie or Jax. This has to stay between us."

"He can't just get away with it!"

"Yes, he can. He didn't actually—I mean, I got away. If you guys try to go after him, he'll…it won't be pretty. His father is an important man, Ortiz."

"Who the fuck cares? Why should him being rich make a damn bit of difference?"

She wrapped a towel around the icepack and pressed it to her face. "Where does your mom work?"

He blinked, momentarily nonplussed. "She does bookkeeping at the mill. Not, like, real heavy accounting stuff, but just kind of—fuck, I don't know."

"My dad works there, too. Second shift. A machinist." She paused and their eyes met. "You know who owns that mill, don't you?"

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"He wouldn't—"

"He might. He thinks TJ hung the fuckin' moon. If he came home crying to daddy because the mean boys at school beat him up, Teddy Flanary would fight back. You'd all three probably be expelled. He would make life hell for SAMCRO. And he'd probably fire your mom. Maybe my dad, too, depending on how much TJ told him."

He ran a hand over his head, and he looked so shocked she almost laughed. "So you're sayin' that little fucker is basically holding the whole goddamn school hostage? That's why they worship him?"

"His dad holds the whole goddamn _county_ hostage. If it weren't for SAMCRO it'd be a thousand times worse, but the Flanarys usually don't fuck with them. They have a lot of weight behind them, and it goes beyond money."

"I don't get it. That's Jax's stepdad's motorcycle club, right?"

"Yup."

"But they're just a club. What do they have to do with anything? Why are they so special?"

She smiled. "You're sweet and innocent, Ortiz, and I like that about you. SAMCRO is a hell of a lot more than a motorcycle club. Do you know how MCs work?"

"I don't know. A bunch of guys ride around on bikes?"

"Yeah, that's the simplest version. But, okay. The government says that ninety-nine percent of motorcycle clubs are legit; no criminal activity. So that leaves one percent, right? That one percent is up to shady shit pretty much all the time. They're the only ones allowed to call themselves an MC, and they have that MC patch on their cuts."

"Like the ones the guys in SAMCRO have," he said. The pieces fell into place and he leaned back against the counter like the wind had been knocked out of him. "So you're saying they're criminals."

"I don't know any details, and I don't want to. You don't either. But they keep this town…the way it is. Homey. No big developments. Low crime, besides petty bullshit like theft."

"Or attempted rape," he muttered.

She cut him a sharp glare and he tilted his head in a shrug.

"Look, Ortiz, you need to listen to me. Jax and Opie can't know about this. They can't go after TJ Flanary, because the last thing this fucking town needs is a war between SAMCRO and the Flanarys because his stupid prick of a son couldn't keep his hands to himself."

"Okay, so, _I'll_ go after him. Opie and Jax's dads are in the club, but I just work at TM. It'd never get back on SAMCRO. Ass kicked, war avoided."

"Juice!" She pressed her hands to his face and forced him to meet her eyes. "I don't want you to go after TJ. I don't want the whole school knowing this happened. I don't want _anyone_ to know this happened. Remember what I said about your mom?"

"Olivia—"

"Please, Juice," she said, her voice soft and pleading. "Please. If I can live with this, then I know you can. If I can pass him in the hall every day and not smash his face in, you can too. Okay? For me?"

His brows drew together and his arm seemed to move on its own accord. Before he realized it he was touching her: running his fingers along her jaw and gently, gently over her mouth and the swelling in her lower lip. He understood in that moment that he would probably never be able to deny her anything she really needed, not when she asked him like that, her eyes all big and sad and her mouth all soft and sweet. Who the hell was this girl, to have that kind of power over him when he barely even knew her?

"Don't look at me like that, Ortiz," she said.

"Like what?" he mumbled.

"However it is you're looking at me now."

"Sorry. This's just my face."

"Right," she said. Her lips moved in a little smile. She let go and stepped back. "My dad will be home soon. It would probably be better if you weren't here. Could be kind of awkward trying to explain why I'm home alone with a boy who's not the same one I left with."

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, of course. Wouldn't wanna get you in trouble."

"So—?"

"I'm not gonna tell anyone, Liv. If you're really sure that's what you want."

Her forehead crinkled. "When did you start calling me _Liv_?"

"Uh." He gave a restless, embarrassed shrug. "I don't know. Is it—I mean—if you hate it—"

"No," she said. The dimple in her chin flashed and disappeared. "No, I like it. It's a nice change from _Ollie_."

He looked down with a grin and shuffled his feet. God he was cute. Like, seriously puppy-dog-but-also-sexy adorable. And it showed how fucked up her brain was that it even occurred to her in that moment. She needed him out of her house, and fast.

He seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and nodded toward the front of the house. "I should—"

"Yeah. I hate to throw you out, but—"

"No, it's cool. I really don't wanna face the wrath of your dad either."

She walked him to the door, and they lingered there for a moment. "Thank you, Juice. I mean it. For everything."

"Are gonna be okay?" he said, frowning.

"Yeah. I just need a really hot shower—or maybe a good soak in the tub; I haven't decided—and some sleep."

His eyes widened a fraction, and she realized he had just pictured her naked. "Wow, Ortiz. Wow."

Color flooded his face and he spun around to yank the door open. "I'm leaving now."

"Good idea."

"I guess I'll see you Monday."

"Yup."

"Um. Goodnight."

"Bye, Ortiz," she said, half-laughing and trying not to. She waited until he had the bike going before she shut the door and set the lock.

Way, way too cute. Maybe she had to rethink the friends idea. Hanging out alone with him was probably a bad idea. Except, of course, he was seeing Dana, so…and it wasn't like she was _interested_. He was just _cute_. She could deal with cute.

* * *

_High school Juice is really adorable. *pats him on the head and gives him a cookie*_

_Man I'm anxious to find out how TJ handles Olivia's rejection. How about you guys? I'd love to hear from you!_


	7. They Know

I gotta quit using BTE quotes before this becomes a thing and I'm stuck with them for the rest of the story.

Not that I don't love BTE, but I'm trying to stick to music made before 2000, so I'm a little limited.

* * *

**no one knows your name**  
**no one hears your cry**  
**fall in with the fringe**  
**because they know what you're going through**  
**they do**  
Better Than Ezra, "Teenager"

Monday was algebra day, and she wasn't looking forward to it because both Juice and TJ were in her class. It was first period, so at least she'd be getting it over with early, but still. She needed to keep them apart, because she knew if TJ made any sort of move toward her at all, there'd be nothing she could do to stop Juice from jumping him.

And that would be a disaster.

She might have overstated things a little Friday night, but she'd wanted to make sure he understood the gravity of the situation. TJ was a brat, and his father was powerful; that could be a nasty combo.

She slept through her alarm, something she'd maybe done only once before in her life, and then she was completely dressed before she realized her shirt had a hole in it and she had to start all over. She didn't bother with makeup, except a little mascara because she never left the house without it, and a quick slick of lipgloss. Her hair she tied up in a messy bun, and she was running out the door when the bus went by.

"Goddammit," she muttered.

That meant she'd have to talk her dad into letting her drive the Cougar. She'd been avoiding him all weekend. It hadn't been hard, because she'd been asleep by the time he got home Friday, and he was still asleep when she got up to hit the shop (Mr. Collins hadn't been happy at being dragged out of bed at seven AM on a Saturday, but she knew he was happy to see her working), and then he was at work by the time she got home Saturday evening. He went to church most Sundays, something she skipped out on due to an overwhelming lack of belief in any higher power, and she was locked in her room catching up on homework until she fell asleep.

Now she had to ask him for the car, and he would want to know why TJ hadn't picked her up, and no matter what she said it would at least partially be a lie. She could either go _full_ lie and say he had early practice and she'd forgotten, or she could go little lie and say they'd broken up, but not tell him why.

The latter option was tougher, but better in the long run.

When he saw her peeking around the kitchen doorway he folded his paper and set it aside. "Was wondering if you were going to show for breakfast this morning. I feel like I haven't seen you in a year."

"Sorry," she said and sat down across from him. "Busy weekend. Football game Friday night, expo entries due Saturday, then a ton of homework to get done yesterday."

"It's okay, pumpkin. I know you're busy." He frowned and glanced at his watch. "Aren't you usually gone by now?"

"Yeah," she said, drawing the syllable out. "I missed the bus."

"The bus? Where's TJ?"

She fiddled with her spoon. "We broke up."

He pulled off his reading glasses and fixed her with a long look. He scanned her face, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes she hadn't tried to hide, and, of course the slight swelling of her mouth. "Olivia. Sweetheart. I'm only going to ask you this once, and I would like for you to tell me the truth."

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and the amount of worry and love there squeezed her heart. She knew she couldn't lie to him, not when he looked at her like that. "Okay, Daddy," she murmured.

His breath caught a little as he drew it in. "Baby, what happened to your lip?"

She couldn't bear to look at him, and her gaze flicked away. Her chin trembled, and when she finally spoke her voice was shaky and thick. "TJ happened."

His face went hard as granite. "He hit you, Olivia? Did that boy hit you?"

"No," she whispered.

"Olivia—"

"He didn't!" she said. She took a deep breath. "Dad, listen. I was already planning to break up with him Friday night, but then he got—a little rough. I kneed him in the junk and told him to stay way from me. A friend of mine brought me home, and—that's basically the story."

His mouth twitched. "You…you kneed him in the junk."

"Yes. I didn't appreciate the grabbing."

"You amaze me sometimes, Ollie." He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, pumpkin. He seemed like a real nice kid."

"Well, yeah. They all do, in front of the dad."

He fiddled with his glasses and frowned down at the table. "I know I've been hard on you lately, and I don't really understand your art or what it means to you, but you need to know how proud I am of you. You have so much potential, sweetheart. I don't want you to waste it in Charming."

"I know, Daddy. Believe me, I don't want to stick around here either. I've been working hard and my grades are good. And Mr. Collins said I should apply for some art scholarships, like maybe at the Rhode Island School of Design, or SCAD."

"Rhode Island? And isn't SCAD in Georgia?"

"Savannah, yeah. But, I mean, it doesn't get much further from Charming—right?"

His mouth quirked. "That's true." He hesitated. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but aren't there any good art schools on this side of the Mississippi? Otis, maybe?"

"Otis is in LA. Dad, how do you know so much about art schools? How did you know SCAD was in Savannah?"

"Ah, well, you know. I—I've done my homework."

She tilted her head. "Homework. About art schools. For me?"

He lifted his hands in a sort of _I give up_ shrug. "I told you I don't get it, but you love it and it makes you happy. That's what matters."

She grinned and threw her arms around him. "Have I told you this week how much I love you?"

"Don't think so."

"You're the best. Really. And I do."

"I know you do, pumpkin. I love you too."

She pulled away and went to grab the Cougar's keys.

"Tara brought you home Friday?" he called after her with a sudden frown.

"Ah, no. There's this new kid in school? His name's Juice. He's been hanging with us, and after I ditched TJ I ran into him and asked for a ride."

His brows drew together. "_Juice_? What kind of name is _Juice_?"

"I don't know. A nickname. I haven't asked him the real thing." She glanced at the clock on the microwave. "As much as I enjoy our bonding time, I'm gonna be late. Can I take the Cougar?" She shook the keys at him and grinned.

"All right," he said. "Fill it up before you bring it back."

"Thanks, Dad," she said and patted his hand. He flipped it over and grabbed her fingers before she could pull away.

"I wish you'd told me, Ollie."

"I didn't want you to worry."

"I'm the parent, sweetheart. You let me decide what to worry about. Okay?"

She managed a weak smile. "Yeah. Okay. I'll see you tonight."

"Sure, pumpkin. Have a good day at school. And drive careful!"

"Yes, Daaad!" she called over her shoulder.

She was glad to get to the car. She loved her father more than anyone on earth, and having to look him in the face and admit even _part_ of what TJ had done to her had been incredibly hard. She gripped the steering wheel and took a long breath through her nose. The familiar smells of old tobacco, vinyl, and peppermint were comforting. She felt like a different person in this car: stronger, braver, smarter. It was like her Batmobile.

She dug through the box of tapes stashed under the seat and shoved one in the cassette player. Her dad had installed it years ago, and she figured one day soon she'd have to rip it out and replace it with CDs—but that felt weird. For now she'd make do with her tapes, at least until the technology became completely antiquated and nobody released tapes anymore.

She cranked up Nirvana and pulled out of the drive. She was going to be late. Maybe miss homeroom completely, which meant being late for first period and algebra.

Or she could just skip. Take the day and go do something else. She could get Tara to write her a note tomorrow; Tara was the queen of everyone's handwriting, and she forged all their notes and signatures and crap.

Except—her dad might notice the extra miles on the odometer. He trusted her, and he didn't usually check up on her like that, but if she went anywhere half decent, it would be a big enough spike to be noticeable. The last thing she wanted to do was lay off school just to stick around Charming.

She could go to the garage. Gemma took Mondays off, so she wouldn't be there. Except _Chibs_ might be, and when it came to school lectures Chibs was the fucking _worst_. He'd spent his teens blowing shit up with the IRA, but the second he even got a whiff of one of them cutting they heard about it for a fucking week.

"Avoidance breeds suffering," she muttered. She had to face TJ sometime. Might as well get it over with.

* * *

She finally found a parking spot at the very back of the student lot, and she ran inside just as the first bell rang. Homeroom was over—she'd hear about that later—but she had time to get to algebra. Barely. Her ass hit the seat at the same time as second bell, and she let out a long breath of relief.

Juice sat a row over and a seat in front, catty corner to her, and he twisted around to give her a look. She smiled. He returned it tentatively. Something about his face worried her, and she did a quick check to make sure her shirt wasn't on backwards or wrong side out or anything.

The room was mostly quiet as Mrs. Hanson shuffled through a stack of papers on her desk. Monday was quiz day, so they were all braced for it. Slowly, furtively, a tide of whispers flowed from desk to desk. Olivia wasn't paying attention; she had her book out and was doing a quick review for the quiz, but she felt a sort of prickling on the back of her neck like you do when you know someone's watching.

She glanced up and nearly every eye in the room—except Mrs. Hanson's—was on her. She brushed a hand over her face. No cereal stuck to it. Her lip was still swollen, but not much, so surely that wasn't attracting all this attention. She looked at Juice, and now his expression sent a shiver of fear and apprehension through her.

"What?" she mouthed silently.

His brow furrowed and he shook his head once, hard and quick. The girl next to her was giving her the evil eye, and when her gaze locked on TJ—he'd been moved to the other side of the room when she reshuffled seats a few weeks ago—he wore a huge smirk, like a fox who'd just raided the henhouse.

Oh God. What had he done?

She didn't have time to worry about it, because at that moment Mrs. Hanson cleared her throat and the class fell quiet. She passed out the quizzes, and Olivia spent the next half hour in an agony of quadratic equations. She actually really loved math, and she was good at it, but every once in a while it just gave her a headache. Today was apparently one of those days.

By the time the bell finally rang she was jumping out of her skin, nervous and twitchy and strung-out. Nobody spoke to her. When people passed her desk they made sure not to touch it, and they all glared at her like she was a leper.

Juice lingered in the doorway to wait, and by the time she had her bag packed the room had mostly emptied out. She grabbed his arm and pulled him in between two banks of lockers. "Okay, what the _fuck_ is going on?" she hissed.

He frowned and wouldn't meet her eyes. "You were late this morning," he said.

"Yeah, I missed the bus and had to talk my dad into letting me take the Cougar. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Hey, Ortiz!" a guy called out. "You gettin' a taste? Make sure you use a rubber!"

Her mouth fell open. "What was that?"

"Ummm…"

"Yo, Juice!" someone else said. "I call next!"

She spun around and shoved the guy against a locker. He had about six inches on her, but she was furious. And strong, from hauling around scrap metal and car parts.

"Who the fuck are you and why the fuck do you think you have a right to say shit like that to me?" she said.

He leered. "Heard you like it rough. Didn't know you'd wanna go right here in the hall, but, hey, I'm down."

She pulled her hand back to slap him, but Juice grabbed her around the waist and hauled her away. "Come on," he said. "Not worth it."

"Let me go, Ortiz! Let me go!"

"Yeah, Ortiz, let her go!" the first guy hooted. "Let someone else get a turn."

Suddenly Opie and Jax appeared from out of nowhere. Opie crowded the guy Olivia had been about to hit, and Jax rolled up on the other one.

"You got somethin' to say to her?" Jax said, his rough voice low and hard.

Tara was at Olivia's elbow, and Juice's grip relaxed.

"I asked you a question, asshole!" Jax said and shoved the catcaller. "Anything you got to say to her, you can say to me."

He looked away and shook his head. "Nah, man. Just havin' a little fun, that's all."

"Maybe you should have fun somewhere else," Opie said. His tone, so mild and easy, was somehow scarier than Jax' show of temper.

Olivia gripped Tara's hand. "What's going on?" she whispered.

"Come on," Tara said. She tugged Olivia toward the bathroom. "We need to talk."

She followed, but craned her neck to watch the action. It was breaking up, but Jax still looked ready to bust some heads. Opie towered over everybody, and his smooth expression sent freshmen running and even had seniors dodging him.

The bathroom door shut behind them and Tara checked each stall. She shooed some girls away from the mirror, and after only token resistance (Tara had a certain rep, too), they sauntered out to the hall. When they had the room to themselves Tara spun toward Olivia and grabbed her hands.

"What the hell happened Friday night?"

"Friday…?" She looked away, her face creased with anxiety. "I went to the football game."

"Yeah, no shit. What happened after?"

She lifted her chin and met Tara's worried eyes. "What did TJ say happened?"

She blew out a breath and brushed Olivia's hair off her forehead. "He said you went to the locker room with him to celebrate."

"He said we fucked in the locker room?" She was confused. Why would that draw such—

Horror as the light dawned. "No. No, no, no, he did fucking _not_!" She spun away and buried her face in her hands. "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God."

Tara's palm was warm on her back. "It's okay, Ollie. No one believes it. Everyone knows it's bullshit."

"Apparently not everyone! Did you hear what those guys said? And that's just two people! In math this morning everyone was whispering and looking at me like I'm some sort of pariah!" She turned back and rubbed her forehead. "What exactly did I do Friday night, according to TJ?"

"Um." Tara's eyes flitted away. "I guess your knees are kinda sore? And the whole football team knows if you spit or swallow."

"Oh my God. I can't believe this. I—I don't understand why I'm so surprised. He let everyone think we skipped winter formal to fuck, so why not take it a step further? Makes him look like a stud, but no one questions why we're not together anymore."

Tara's eyes narrowed as she zeroed in on Olivia's lip. "So you wanna tell me what _did_ happen? Like in actual reality?"

She gave a weary shrug. "We had a thing. I told him it was over. He got mad and left me on the side of the road. Juice just happened to drive by and he gave me a ride home."

"A thing. A thing that resulted in that lip?"

"It was no big deal, Tara. He didn't really hurt me and I kneed him in the balls."

Her eyes went wide and she smothered a laugh. "Holy shit."

"Yeah."

"So, wait, you were with _Juice_ Friday night?"

"When I wasn't with TJ or sitting at home alone, yeah."

"Hhmm." She smirked. "That's interesting."

"Don't. Like, seriously. Now that I'm officially the school slut I think it's more important than ever that I stay away from anything with a penis. Especially since apparently I can't get near one without wanting to suck it."

Now Tara burst into a full-on giggle fit, and Olivia couldn't keep a straight face despite her best efforts.

"This is a disaster," she groaned through her laughter.

"At least you broke up with TJ."

She wiped her eyes and shook her head. "I try not to draw attention to myself. I mean, I prefer to be under the radar, just do my thing and not attract much notice. Now I'm the Hester fucking Prynne of SanWa South!"

Tara sighed and wove her arm through Olivia's. "It's gonna be okay, Ollie. No one who matters believes it anyway. TJ's a fucking asshole, and if you want I'm sure the guys would stomp his head in for you."

"Yeah, no, I don't think that's a great idea." She scowled. "Come on. We better go or we'll be late for class."

She stopped at the door and glared at it. Tara squeezed her hand.

"We'll go together. Let 'em talk. Between the two of us we're enough bad ass bitch to handle anybody."

Olivia took a deep, fortifying breath and squared her shoulders. "Less Hester Prynne, more Scarlett O'Hara," she said.

"That's right. Fuck those old Atlanta busybodies."

"Huh. I guess that's step two."

She shoved the bathroom door open and they stepped out, arms linked, heads together as they laughed. The guys were waiting for them, and at some point Donna had joined Opie. The six of them walked to Tara and Olivia's English Lit class with kids parting in front of them like the Red Sea for Moses. There were whispers, but they were muted. Stares, but furtive ones.

Olivia felt them, though, their eyes hot and probing like little needles. She should've known that nasty fucker would do something like this. He had to save face, after all, and after Friday a simple lie—like that he had dumped her, or she stopped putting out—wouldn't do. What hurt more was the guys who were going along with it. She'd thought John was kinda cool, and she had other friends on the team, guys who were in metal and auto with her and had been since freshman year. She used to tutor the full back in English.

But, she supposed, they were a team. No one wanted to be the guy who stood against the team, and it took one to get it started. Maybe if she talked to John—

That was stupid. What was the point anyway? No one ever read the _retraction_ of a big, gossipy news story. People liked headlines, and right now the headline was Olivia Gable had blown the entire goddamn football team in the locker room after Friday night's game.

No wonder her lip was swollen.

* * *

Her social life took an interesting turn after that. Guys who'd never even looked at her twice were suddenly asking her out. They always did it with an icky gleam in their eye and a smile that was just a little _too_ friendly. She didn't go anywhere alone, not since a weird incident on Tuesday when a guy from her chem class had asked her to stay a minute after lab to help him with something and then tried to grope her tits.

They both got sent to the office when she punched him in the face, but she was the only one who got detention.

There was a part of her that wanted to just say fuck it and become the slut they all assumed she was. She didn't even care about that part; she despised slut-shaming and thought the whole dichotomy of virgin/whore was complete fucking bullshit and didn't mean a goddamn thing in real actual life. Except the last thing she wanted to do was have sex with any of these disgusting losers who were only giving her the time of day because they thought she was easy.

And, of course, the one or two guys she'd actually liked before she started going out with TJ now treated her like she had some sort of disease—which, considering what they all thought she'd done, was a very real possibility. She toyed with the idea of dating a girl, to the point that Tara offered to fix her up with someone from her bio class, but in the end she'd decided against it. Everyone was talking about her enough without adding fuel to the fire.

It was easy to have a philosophy about life, and a completely different thing to live it. She _wanted_ to stand tall and proud and say _fuck you_ to everyone who thought a woman exercising her sexual freedom was something shameful; and she maybe could, if she'd actually done it; but the way people looked at her and the way guys talked to her and the way girls _didn't_ talk to her and the way all the teachers seemed to pity her…it was a lot to deal with.

There were only a few days until Christmas break. She could make it through, and maybe by the time they got back people would've found someone new to whisper about.

Finally Thursday rolled around, not only the last day before break, but also shop day. She could put on the fucking hood and hide behind the blow torch and forget that she was the school pariah. Plus it was the only class she had with Jax, Opie, and Juice, and the three of them plus Tara and Donna were the only friends she had left.

She had completely re-worked the sculpture to submit to the expo, and now she was starting something new. They were small, only a few feet high, and she was planning a series. She'd finished the first one, and the second one was coming along nicely. She was lost in her own little world, and she barely heard when the bell rang.

"Yo, Ollie!"

She blinked hard as Jax' voice filtered through the whoosh of the torch. She flicked it off and raised the visor. "What, Teller? Jesus, people are working here."

He jerked his chin at the empty room behind him. "You gonna come to lunch, or stay here all day and melt shit?"

"Oh." She frowned. "Yeah, I'm coming. Go ahead without me."

He hesitated and she waved him away.

"I'll be fine, Jax. I think I can walk from here to the cafeteria without being assaulted."

He clearly wasn't happy about it, but a sixteen-year-old boy was ruled by two things: his dick and his stomach. Right now it was lunchtime, and his stomach was at the helm. "Yeah, all right. See you there."

She got rid of the gloves and the helmet and was stripping out of the jumpsuit when Mr. Collins appeared. "Oh, Ollie. I thought you'd be gone by now."

"On my way out." She grabbed her water bottle and sketchbook and headed toward her backpack.

"I'm glad I caught you, actually. You have a minute?"

"Sure," she said. She tucked the sketchbook away and hoisted her bag onto one shoulder. "What's up?"

He propped himself on the table across from her and smiled a little. "How are you?"

"Mr. Collins—"

He waved a hand. "I know. I'm just checking in. Your new work is amazing, Ollie. Some of the best you've ever done, and I'm glad to see you get your mojo back…but I'm also a little concerned."

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Those rumors aren't true."

"I didn't really think they were. Especially when I realized who was probably responsible for spreading them."

Her mouth quirked. "Some people don't handle rejection well."

"One in every crowd, unfortunately."

There was a pause while they watched each other across the table. He always gave her the deepest looks. Like he could read every thought in her head, or he wanted to. It was disconcerting, but also kind of refreshing. It seemed like half the people she interacted with on a daily basis had little to no interest in what made her tick.

He was tall, six feet-ish, and well-built in a thin, wiry sort of way. He wore his brown hair too long for a teacher, and it constantly fell over his forehead. He apparently only shaved every four days or so, because he had a perpetual scruff-like beard that on most guys would like kinda skeevy, but worked on him. He dressed in ties and cardigans and corduroys, and the same pair of scuffed brown wingtips every day. It should have been dorky as hell, and it was, but he was so unaffected about it, so effortless and easy, that he somehow made it cool.

Everyone who had him agreed he was their favorite teacher, and his young age and his good looks attracted more girls than metal shop normally would. Olivia wasn't here for any of that: she'd signed up for shop freshman year because she'd liked the idea, and once she was there she'd discovered something she'd never known she had. Because of Mr. Collins.

The silence stretched. It never turned awkward or forced, but eventually one of them would have to break it or they might be here all day. Finally Olivia said, "So was this talk just so you could practice your worried teacher routine? Because the only thing really wrong with me right now is hunger."

He grinned and dragged a hand through his shaggy hair. "It's actually about the expo. They're announcing the awards tonight. You know first place is a nice chunk of change."

"Second place isn't too shabby, either."

"True, but you don't really chase second place." His eyes were warm and his voice quiet. "Do you?"

"No. Not really my style. I mean, if you're gonna be the school slut, you might as well be the _number one_ slut, right?"

His chin fell to his chest as he laughed. "Go to lunch, Ollie. I'll see you tonight."

"Sure, Mr. Collins. You too."

She rushed through the door and stopped short as she almost ran over Dana Riley. "Oh!" she said. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

"No," the other girl said, her full mouth moving in a nasty smile, "I guess you were a little busy."

Olivia's brows drew together. "Um. Sure, Dana. Busy…running to the cafeteria. If you're looking for Juice, I think he has English now."

"I know Juice's schedule," she said with a glower. "I was looking for _you_."

"Okay. Could we talk and walk? I'm really hungry and I'd like time to eat."

"This won't take long." She stepped closer and used every bit of her three-inch height advantage to tower over Olivia. "Stay. Away. From Juice. You might have him fooled into thinking you're Miss Sweet and Innocent, but I know better. TJ told me everything."

"Did he?" she said, softly. "I somehow doubt that." She gently knocked Dana's hand away from her face before she could stab her eye out with a sharp red nail. "Juice and I are friends, Dana. Just like I am with Opie and Jax. If Tara and Donna aren't threatened by me, then I don't know why you should be. And, come on. Let's not play these bullshit games. We turn against each other, the assholes win."

"I think you're the only asshole here, _Ollie_." She somehow managed to infuse her name with a thousand terrible, disgusting things, and Olivia flinched from it. Wow. Both scary and impressive.

"Dana, I'm not after your boyfriend. I have no interest in your boyfriend. Just—leave me alone. And, you know. Maybe don't believe every goddamn thing you hear."

Sick and tired of the whole thing, Olivia spun on her heel and didn't stop walking until she was at her car. She spent the rest of lunch there, and didn't move even when the bell rang. Finally, after another half hour of just staring through the windshield at nothing, she started the engine and drove home.

_Happy motherfucking Christmas_, she thought.

* * *

_Things really kick off next chapter, kids, so buckle your seat belts. The fallout from TJ's douchery will be huge._

_Thanks so much for all your reviews from last time! I'm glad you guys are enjoying. :) I have ch12 written, but not ch11? So, you know. A little help. :(_


	8. Come Apart

Here goes, kiddos. The next several chapters are gonna be pretty big. At least I think so. I hope you do, too. :)

* * *

**i want to hold the hand inside you**  
**i want to take a breath that's true**  
**i look to you and i see nothing**  
**i look to you to see the truth**  
**you live your life**  
**you go in shadows**  
**you'll come apart and you'll go blind**  
**some kind of night into your darkness**  
**colors your eyes with what's not there**  
Mazzy Star, "Fade Into You"

So far they'd mostly spent Christmas break goofing off. What else was break for? Gemma dragged Jax in to work at the garage, and he would try to get one of them to come in with him. Usually they would agree; they all liked working there; and halfway through his shift Jax would inevitably sneak off somewhere with Tara, leaving his unwitting victim to carry the load.

None of them really expected anything less.

The garage was closed from Christmas Eve through January second, and it was nice to do nothing for a change. On Christmas Day Gemma held her annual potluck shindig, and this year Olivia had talked her father into going. It had taken two words, and she was kind of worried about the implications.

"Dad, would you hurry up? If we don't get there soon there won't be any food left. We're competing against all of SAMCRO, remember."

"I'm coming! I just can't get this tie right."

She paused. "Tie?"

"Come here, pumpkin."

She rolled her eyes and stomped back to his room. He was in front of the mirror twisting a tie around and around his neck like an idiot. He had on jeans, a white button down, and a blazer. And now a tie? It was worse than she thought.

"No. No ties."

"But—"

"Also lose the blazer. And untuck your shirt. Or, you know what? Don't move." She dug through several drawers until she found his black AC/DC shirt. "Wear this."

"Honey, I don't think—"

"Dad. I don't think she's going to be impressed if you show up looking like it's a parent-teacher conference."

He blushed beet red, and Olivia knew she'd hit the nail on the head. He'd been nervous and excited ever since she'd told him Juice's mom had been invited as well. He'd asked Olivia probably ten times if she were going, and Olivia told him Juice said she was…which set off a whole different round of nerves.

Olivia wasn't at all sure how she felt about the whole thing. It wasn't really because she thought her father should be loyal to her mother's memory for the rest of his life—she had no doubts that her parents had been very much in love, and her father still mourned in his own quiet way—but more because it was _Juice's mom_. Of all people.

"I'm going to start the car. Be out in five minutes or I'm leaving without you," she said.

"Which one of us is the parent here?" he said with a good-natured scowl.

"I don't know, but probably not the one who's spent the last thirty minutes changing his shirt twenty times. Oh wait."

He made a face and she grinned. She left him there to fuss some more, and once she was in the car she did a quick check of her makeup and smoothed her hair.

She'd stopped wearing the foundation TJ had preferred, and her freckles were a golden scatter across her cheeks. She felt better seeing them, more like herself, but for some reason she felt a flutter in her belly about the party that had nothing to do with her father chasing Juice's mom. It was just the club crowd. She knew everyone (except Ms. Ortiz), and it wasn't like there'd be any surprises.

She drummed her fingers on the wheel and honked. God, he was gonna take all night. Even she'd only changed once, and that's because she'd decided a dress might be a little nicer than ripped jeans and a flannel shirt.

Finally he appeared in the doorway with a sheepish smile. He'd put on the AC/DC shirt like she'd suggested, and he'd done something truly dorky with his hair.

She really hoped Ana Ortiz was a kind woman, or else he was in a mess of trouble.

* * *

At least he was being subtle about it. Olivia's father was the only person Ms. Ortiz knew at the party, so he had an excuse to talk to her, but he was introducing her around to everyone and just generally being pretty cool despite how goofy he looked.

Olivia had to admit Ana Ortiz was pretty: petite, with long dark hair and eyes like her son's. Her skin was a few shades lighter than Juice's. Overall they were as dissimilar as Olivia and her dad were alike. He must take after his dad. She'd never heard him mention a father, and she hadn't asked. Family questions could be sticky and it was usually better to let someone volunteer their tragic backstory.

Tig had shoved a glass of eggnog in her hand at one point, and she'd drunk it down without even thinking. It had been heavily laced with rum, and now her head felt sort of spinny. She didn't drink as a rule, so her alcohol tolerance was practically nonexistent. She was glad she hadn't worn heels. That could've been both awkward and dangerous.

Trust Tig to spike the punch and hand out drinks to minors.

She had escaped to the hall where it was quieter and cooler, and she leaned against the wall and let her mind wander.

She giggled a little. What had Tig been like in high school? A flirt, for sure. Or maybe not. Maybe he was the shy kid who didn't come out of his shell until later. A troublemaker, that was no doubt. No one could make as much trouble as Tig Trager did without having years and years of practice.

The bathroom door to her left opened, and she straightened as Juice appeared in the hallway. "Oh, hi," she said. "It's you."

_Oh, hi_. Well. Apparently alcohol made her both clumsy _and_ eloquent.

He grinned at her, a huge, amazing smile that transformed his face and crinkled the corners of his eyes a little and made her heart do a funny dance in her chest.

"Oh," she said again, this time on a breath like someone had hit her in the gut.

"Liv," he said, still grinning fit to beat the band. "I meant to tell you earlier you look real pretty tonight. I like your hair."

She had curled it and pulled part of it back with a clip while the rest hung in loose waves down her spine.

"I mean," he continued before she could say anything, "I like it when you have it put up, too. Like in that bun thing you do sometimes? That's nice. But when you wear it like this you can see your face and it's all long. I'm sure you'd be pretty with short hair, too."

She lifted a brow. "Have you been chatting with Tig?"

"He gave me some eggnog."

She smothered a giggle behind her hand. "Yeah, I can tell." She hesitated. Leaned against the wall again and tucked her arms behind her. "So, um. My dad and your mom, huh?"

He made a face and slouched next to her. "Kinda weird, right?"

"A little."

He looked away with a frown. "Wasn't really interested in being your brother."

"Wow, Ortiz, you move fast," she said with a snort. "They haven't even been on a date yet."

"No, I know. Just…she changed clothes like ten times and I thought we were gonna be late and I didn't even realize why until you and your dad walked in and she was like, _oh James I'm so glad you're here it's so nice to see you!_ And ugh."

Her brow furrowed. "My dad's actually really cool. I mean. Despite appearances to the contrary."

"Well. You're cool, so I guess I'll give him the benefit of the doubt."

She ducked her head to hide a blush. "You think I'm cool?"

"Yeah. I mean, I don't really get your art stuff, but it's neat. It's neat that you can…like you can take these scraps that no one wants, right? And you can remake them. So they're old and useless and thrown out, but you make them…beautiful, I guess." Color flooded his cheeks and his mouth twisted. Half-drunk or not, he now felt like a complete idiot.

She touched his shoulder and he glanced up. Her smile was soft, radiant, and he couldn't help but return it. "That's really nice, Juice. Maybe the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Oh," he said. Now it was his turn to sound like he'd taken a punch.

They were standing close, she realized, almost close enough to touch without even moving, and just as she decided to take a step back, he leaned even closer.

"You smell good, like, all the time," he said.

"Ha! How much of that eggnog did you have?"

"Maybe two glasses. I don't know. You don't smell like eggnog."

"Thank goodness for some small favors." She bit her lip a little and cast a look back at the living room. "I should probably get back. _We_ should, maybe. To, you know. Chaperone our parents."

"Good idea."

She turned away, but he grabbed her hand before she could move. "Hang on," he said. "Wait."

She spun back with a frown, and he pointed up. "Mistletoe," he said.

Her eyes widened a little. "Ortiz—"

"It's tradition." His face went still and he smiled. "But we don't have to if you don't want to. It's okay."

She lifted her chin and shook back the strands of hair that had fallen loose from her clip. "No. You're right, it's tradition. And it's not a big deal or anything."

"Nah, just like…a tiny peck, right? A kiss on the cheek."

"Exactly."

"And I'm not your brother yet."

She let out a quick laugh. "Shut up, Ortiz." They both moved forward at the same time, and her knee bumped his and he half stepped on her toes and they both let out sharp hisses of pain.

"Good start," he said with a grin.

"Clearly we were meant to be," she replied, her tone dry and self-deprecating.

But then quiet fell between them. She tilted her head to look up at him, and he leaned down toward her. Their eyes met. She touched her tongue to her upper lip and his pupils went huge. He brushed his palm over her cheek and lightly cupped her face. She rested her hand against his chest.

A thousand things flashed through her mind at once. She remembered other kisses in her life: TJ's rough, punishing ones; Justin Fitzhugh's hot, eager ones; the girl from the club's sweet, wicked ones; Opie's gentle, soft ones; and then others before and in between those more memorable. Opie, who could claim so many of her firsts, couldn't claim her first kiss. That, ironically enough, had been Jax.

They'd been twelve—well, she was twelve, he was eleven—and it was Tara's twelfth birthday party. They were playing seven minutes in heaven, and when Jax spun the bottle it landed on Olivia. They'd laughed about it, in that blushing, uncomfortable way of kids who realize too late they might be in over their heads, and trundled off to Tara's basement closet.

The small, dark space forced them to crowd close, and at first they'd just laughed at the idea of it. They were almost like siblings, and it seemed weird and silly. But then her hand had found his and he'd squeezed her fingers and suddenly they were kissing, all awkwardness and bumping noses and embarrassed giggles.

All of those kisses—and she thought there had been a nice number of them in her brief sexual history—and she'd never felt quite the spark she did when Juice Ortiz touched her face. Heat suffused her from head to toe, and she tried to write it off as the rum, but she actually felt more clear-headed just then than she had in weeks. Her lips parted on a quiet breath, and a voice inside her screamed that she should run, get away, she wanted no part of him and his sweet smiles and warm eyes, but she didn't move. She was glued in place.

He blinked at her in something like amazement. He hadn't even kissed her yet, but he felt sure, for the first time in his life, that once he did things would never be the same. She was just a girl. A girl who didn't even really like him and who he felt…kind of…indifferent towards, so why was so dizzy and weird and out of breath?

He'd kissed prettier girls. Girls who didn't seem so impatient with him. Smart girls and, yeah, a couple of dumb ones. Girls with big boobs (like Olivia's) and small ones. Tall girls and short girls—though, to be fair, usually short ones because up until recently he'd been pretty fuckin' short himself. But he'd never kissed a girl who had freckles across her nose like little starbursts, or who had eyes that reminded him of springtime back home, or who made him feel quite so…out of sorts every time he looked at her.

"I don't even think I _like_ you," he muttered, and until she answered him he hadn't known he'd said it aloud.

"That's okay, Ortiz," she whispered, her breath warm across his skin. "I'm not sure I like you either."

Glad to have that settled, he finally closed the hairsbreadth gap between them and pressed his mouth against hers.

She'd been expecting it, of course, but the kiss startled her. His lips were tentative at first, questioning, but she leaned into him a little and he grew bolder. He kept his hand against her face, the other at her waist, and she was relieved he didn't try to roam.

Their lips parted, her lower one gliding easily between his, but neither of them felt the need for tongue. She tasted the tang of rum and the sweet melt of sugar, and when his fingers slid into her hair and tangled there she didn't try to pull away.

He sucked a little on her lower lip, enjoying the feel of it, the soft, full shape. He'd had no idea until his lips touched hers that he'd wanted to kiss her since the first moment he saw her, the day she raised that helmet and turned out to be a foul-mouthed, blunt-humored, big-eyed _girl_ with a temper that prickled and a laugh that lit up the room. Her body barely brushed his, a whisper along his chest and against his leg, but he was almost painfully hard, his erection an insistent throb that he hoped to God she wouldn't notice.

Holy shit he was in trouble.

They parted, briefly, to gulp air, but as their eyes locked their mouths crashed together again and everything around them disappeared: the sounds from the party; worries about their parents; Juice's insecurities and Olivia's painful memories of TJ.

But they weren't _gone_, and when his hand moved to the small of her back to pull her closer the world snapped back into focus and she pulled away. Despite the sharp pinch of fear she didn't want to break the moment. Her nose brushed his, and he pressed his mouth to her forehead when her chin dropped. They both panted, scrambled for breath, and she wondered if he could hear her heart pounding.

"That's, uh—that's some tradition," he said between deep gasps.

"Not sure that's typically how it goes."

He rested his forehead against hers and gave a disbelieving sort of laugh. "Is that good or bad?"

Her face creased and he knew the answer before she said it. She stepped back and tugged the barrette from her hair so that she could redo it. She wouldn't meet his eyes. He touched her arm and smiled a little.

"It's okay, Liv. It was just a kiss."

"Yeah," she said with a wave. "Of course. And we've both been drinking."

"Right." He shuffled backwards, toward the bathroom. "We're both kinda—"

"Tipsy," she said when he broke off.

"Tipsy. That's it. Sort of—"

"Dizzy?"

"Uh huh." Somehow they'd drifted closer. He felt way drunker than he should from just a couple cups of spiked eggnog. He couldn't stop looking at her mouth, her smeared lipstick and bee stung lips. "Maybe a little, um…"

"Light-headed?" she whispered.

His head jerked in a sloppy nod and suddenly they were kissing again. He didn't even know how, or who had kissed who; all he knew was that she tasted amazing and now she was pressed against him, full-length, and there was no way she didn't feel his hard on. He didn't have the spare brain power to worry about it, though, because her fingers were doing some crazy tickle thing on the back of his neck and he really needed to concentrate on not grabbing something that would get him smacked. He decided on her hair, two handfuls of it, all soft and silky and good-smelling, and judging by the noise she made that was a smart choice.

Her last fully coherent thought was about this body: the lean lines of it; the soft layer of baby pudge that insulated the firm muscle underneath; and just the warm solid _comfort_ of him, like a sweater straight from the dryer. Maybe not the sexiest image, but at the moment there was plenty of sexy to go around without her scrambling brain adding to the mess. She let herself drown for a few seconds, just let go and enjoy the taste and the feel of him. He nibbled her lip, but it was nothing like TJ, not at all angry or possessive, just easy and…yeah, okay, _sexy_.

"Juice," she murmured against his mouth, "Juice, we can't—"

"One more, Livvie," he mumbled. "Just one more, k?"

His voice was low and husky and she felt it like the rub of velvet directly between her legs. She shuddered and stumbled back, out of his arms and away from his mouth and his body and the bizarre, drugging effect he had on her.

"We can't," she hissed. "Half of SAMCRO is right around the corner, not to mention your mom and my dad. We can't just—we can't just _make out_ in the hall like…like drunkards."

She drew in a hard breath and scrubbed a hand over her face. He stared at her, stunned and still sort of fuzzy.

"Besides that, don't you have a girlfriend? At least a sort of girlfriend? Think carefully before you answer that question, because as of the start of Christmas break she was hunting me down to warn me to stay away from her man."

"She did what?" he said, blinking hard.

"You heard me."

He rubbed the back of his hand against his still-tingling mouth. "She didn't say anything to me. Shit, Liv."

"I told her she didn't have anything to worry about."

"Well no, she doesn't. Because you don't even like me," he said.

"Right. And you don't like me, either."

He lifted his arms in a shrug. "You're fine, but I don't like you like _that_."

"Perfect! Good. Okay. Then we're on the same page."

"Absolutely," he said. "This was just one of those weird…things."

"Weird things happen every day."

"Especially when alcohol is involved."

"Yes!" She waved a hand at him. "Good point! Really, really good point. Definitely something to keep in mind."

"So it was a fluke. Just, like, mistletoe and Christmas and rum. Plus weird shit going on with our parents and school's been kinda crazy, and—did I mention you smell amazing?"

"No. Nuh uh. Nothing like that."

"Sorry. Just kinda slipped out." He turned awkwardly. "I'm gonna just—" Jerked his thumb toward the bathroom. "In here. A minute. I'll, uh—"

"See you back at the party. Yup. In there with everyone else."

He nodded and ducked into the bathroom like someone was chasing him. As soon as the door shut behind him she sagged against the wall and buried both hands in her hair. What the _fuck_ had she been thinking? She wasn't interested. He had a girlfriend. She was still reeling from that shit with TJ.

That's all it was. Alcohol plus rebound. She took a few more minutes to pull herself together before she straightened and drew in a deep breath. She'd just spun toward the living room when Tara popped around the corner. She stopped short and her mouth fell open.

"Olivia…did someone _maul_ you?"

"What are you talking about?" she said with a forced little laugh. "I just—had to pee." She started past her, but Tara grabbed her arm and tugged her back.

"You aren't going out there looking like that!"

"Like what? I'm perfectly fine." Her brows drew together. "Had a tiny bit too much of Tig's eggnog, but otherwise okay."

Juice chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom. He paused when he saw them, and his mouth moved in a brief, embarrassed smile. "Hi, guys."

"Holy shit," Tara said in a high strangled voice.

Olivia glared at her. "Sorry, Ortiz, Tara's feeling kinda sick."

He stepped out of the way with an apologetic grimace and Olivia dragged Tara into the bathroom.

"Oh my _God_!" Tara cried as soon as the door closed. "Olivia Jameson Gable, you shameless tramp!"

"Shhh! Would you keep your voice down?"

"Oh my God!" she said again. She pressed both hands to her mouth, and her dark eyes sparkled with mirth. "You made out with Juice Ortiz at Gemma's Christmas party!" she whispered before she clamped her mouth shut again.

"Holy shit, oh Jesus, this is bad, Tara. Like, _bad_ bad."

Best friend instinct over road the need to tease, and Tara reached for her as she started to panic. "No it's not. It's fine. Just breathe, Ollie. It was just a kiss." She paused. "I mean, right?"

"What?! Tara!"

"I'm sorry but you should see yourself!" She turned her toward the mirror. "Look at you, Ollie, you look like you've been—well, making out with Juice Ortiz at Gemma's Christmas party. Well and thoroughly making the fuck out," she said, impressed.

"Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. I look like the girl who sucked off the entire football team in the locker room!"

Tara giggled. "Or just one Puerto Rican from Queens."

"Shut up. It was just a kiss, I swear. Nothing actually happened. He didn't even try to cop a feel." And he easily could have, because there was a good two minutes there when she'd been totally out of it, like completely blotto.

"One kiss? One teensy, itty bitty smooch beneath the mistletoe?"

"Um." She swallowed. "Maybe more like…five or six…really…intense kisses, but no tongue he was like a total gentleman," she said, reluctantly at first and then all in a rush.

"You look like _that_ and you didn't even use _tongue_? Wow. Maybe I'm kissin' the wrong guy."

"It's not funny, Tara!"

"It's a little bit funny."

"Oh my God," she moaned and slumped onto the counter. "What the fuck, Tara? What have I done?"

Tara wet a tissue and dabbed at Olivia's swollen mouth. "You kissed a cute guy at a party, babe. It happens. Not like it's the first time. And, I mean, it looks like you had fun."

She blew her hair off her forehead. "I totally did."

"That's good, at least. How did you guys leave it?"

She hitched a shoulder. "Just, like. It was a fluke. Random happenstance no big deal."

"Hhmm," Tara said, a low, skeptical hum.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said. She grinned. "I think you should kiss him again to make sure."

"No. No more kissing. I am kiss-celibate. No kissing, no wanting to kiss, no thinking about kissing. These lips are off limits."

"Probably smart. Dana finds out that happened she might snatch 'em off your face."

"Fuck." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Let's just forget about this, okay? Pretend it never happened."

Tara's mouth curved. "Whatever you say, kid."

Olivia shoved the clip into her hand. "Help me fix my hair and let's get back in there before someone thinks _we're_ making out."

She snorted out a laugh. "Also wouldn't be the first time."

"Reason number two hundred thirty-five I don't drink."

"It makes you very affectionate."

"Hey, your lips were there too."

She grinned and brushed out Olivia's tangled hair. "I just wanted to know what all the fuss was about. You're a total babe, but I think I'll stick with guys."

"It's okay," she said and patted Tara's hand. "You're a total babe, too, but our romance was doomed from the start."

"Star-crossed."

"Fated to be friends."

"I like blonds better anyway," Tara said.

"Yeah. And apparently I'm into Puerto Rican biker boys now."

"In all fairness just the _one_ Puerto Rican biker boy; not like a whole bunch of them." She got the barrette fixed and turned Olivia's head back and forth to get a good look. "Besides, it was just a kiss. Right?"

Their eyes met in the mirror and Olivia smiled. "Right. No big deal."

Maybe if she said it often enough it'd be true. Or at least she'd start to believe it, and that was half the battle.

* * *

_Welp._

_Okay, darlings, I've got about half of ch11 written, but this already ch9! So I really need some help with yon inspiration...even though I kind of have an idea of what's going to happen. I just need to write it._

_ALSO! I've decided to do a series of one-shot supplements, like "missing scenes" from Come With Me Tonight. I won't be posting them here, though, so check for them on ao3. My nom de plume is copperleaves. The first one will be along soon. :)_


	9. Close the Door

I think this chapter is gonna surprise you. I hope in a not-unpleasant way. :)

* * *

**the lights go down**  
**and the clouds are building outside**  
**you close the door and turn the key**  
**but there's no place to hide**  
Better Than Ezra, "Killer Inside"

The only good part about going back to school was the Cougar. It was officially hers now; she'd made A honor roll last semester despite all the bullshit; and her dad had handed it over with a proud grin. He'd known she was disappointed by the expo—she'd come in third—but she assured him the car more than made up for it.

She'd picked Tara up because she was so eager to show it off, and after complaining for a good five minutes about her tape collection, she finally picked something and they sang along the whole way to school. Olivia pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine.

Tara grinned at her. "You know, I think it's all gonna be okay."

"Do you, Mary Sunshine? What gives you that idea?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling."

"Let's hope your optimism is catching, because right now all I feel is huge fucking dread." She climbed out of the car and shut the door behind her. "It was ten days, not ten years. I don't think everybody will've forgotten this fast."

Tara made a face at her, but she didn't say anything as they walked to homeroom. It looked like Olivia had been right anyway: the whispers and stares were still there. She tried to ignore them, and Tara glared out at the faces so that eyes slid away and heads dropped. They met up with the guys, except Opie, but Jax said he'd left to walk Donna to her class.

Olivia offered Juice a brief smile. He nodded in return. They hadn't really talked since Christmas, and so far his mom and Olivia's dad hadn't been on an official date.

Tara elbowed her and Olivia scowled. She still hadn't given up the idea that Olivia should kiss Juice again _just to make sure_. She was sure: it had been nothing. She couldn't be held accountable for any of her actions when she drank, which is why she didn't.

She absolutely wasn't thinking about what had happened when she got home that night and locked herself in her bedroom. That, too, had been a side effect of the rum. And it had been a _really_ good kiss.

Olivia and Tara had homeroom together, but the guys were in another unit. They left when first bell went, and Tara hooked her arm through Olivia's as they filed into the classroom.

"Hey, Gable," one of the guys said. "Have a busy break?"

He smirked and Tara flipped him off. "Fuck you, asshole."

"What, Teller not enough man for you?" he said. He grabbed his crotch. "Don't worry, baby, I got everything you need right here."

Tara snarled and lunged at him, but Olivia hauled her back. "Not worth it," she said. "Just ignore them."

Tara gave him a heated look, and for a moment he quailed. It was a general rule that you didn't fuck with Teller or Winston, or anyone who hung out with them. He hitched a shoulder. "Just fuckin' around anyway. Didn't mean anything by it."

"Sure," Olivia said with a wry, humorless grin. "That's what they all say."

She herded Tara to her seat and went to her own, and second bell had just rung when Ms. Tully, the guidance counselor, appeared in the door. She conferred a moment with the teacher before she cast a look across the classroom. They fell quiet at this anomaly, and she cleared her throat.

"Olivia Gable?" she said. "Could I see you, please?"

Every eye in the room swiveled toward her and a flush spread across her cheeks. She gathered her bag and made a face at Tara, who frowned in confusion and shook her head.

"Is something wrong?" Olivia asked once they were in the hall.

Ms. Tully just smiled. "Mr. Presbolowski and I would like to speak to you about something."

"Oh my God. Ms. Tully, listen, that nonsense about the football team is just a stupid rumor. I broke up with TJ Flanary and he—"

"It's not about that, Olivia, but of course that rumor isn't true. Coach Montoyez was with the boys until they left campus. It was a big celebration. There would have been no chance for anything, ah, extracurricular."

"That's good to hear," she said with a frown. Maybe it was something good. Maybe she'd won a prize or they wanted her to…to…God, she had no idea. Why the fuck would it be anything good?

They reached the principal's office and Ms. Tully gestured her inside. They both took chairs across from his desk. Mr. Presbo wore a serious, concerned expression, and Olivia's heart sank.

Obviously nothing good.

"Olivia, how are you?" he said. "How was your break?"

"Great," she said, wishing he'd just get it over with. "Too short, I guess. Um, what's this about?"

He let out a long sigh and leaned forward to steeple his hands on the desk blotter. "Olivia, there are some things Ms. Tully and I need to discuss with you. It's a sensitive topic, so if you would like to have a parent present that's understandable."

She blinked back and forth between the two of them. Fear squeezed her gut like a vise. "I—don't want to bother my dad. He works second shift. Could you please just tell me what's going on?"

Ms. Tully cleared her throat again; it was a nervous habit; and smoothed her floral skirt. "You're a wonderful student, Olivia. Your grades have improved so much since freshman year, and everyone can tell how you apply yourself. I know losing your mother was a terrible blow, but you've recovered from it in remarkable fashion."

Olivia chewed her lip and waited.

"You're in Mr. Collins' metal shop class, aren't you?" Mr. Presbo said.

She tilted her head toward him. "I have been since ninth grade. Mr. Collins is a great teacher."

She had an idea where this was going, but surely she was wrong.

"You two are close," Ms. Tully said.

Olivia smiled and straightened her shoulders. "I'm not sure what you're trying to say, Ms. Tully. Yeah, we're close—because he's a great teacher. He's really supportive of my art."

"He's the one who encouraged you to start sculpting, isn't he?" Ms. Tully said.

She nodded silently. She and Ms. Tully had had plenty of run-ins in the past; she'd cast herself as Olivia's savior during the first year after her mom died. Olivia'd spent most of eighth grade homeschooled because of her injuries, and when she rejoined the land of the non-invalids in ninth, Ms. Tully had been right there like a great hovering bird.

Despite her best efforts at various forms of therapy, it wasn't until Mr. Collins had introduced her to the blow torch and told her she could make whatever she wanted that Olivia finally started to feel like herself again. He encouraged those first, slapdash efforts, and with his help her sculptures had grown into _something_. Really something. A chance at a future outside of Charming. A chance at…she wasn't even sure what. All she knew was that when she was creating she felt like a different person, a person without problems or worries or fears.

And she owed most of it to Mr. Collins.

Ms. Tully and Mr. Presbo were studying her carefully, and she realized she'd been quiet for too long. "I take his class every semester because it's the only place I can work on my stuff. I can't exactly weld at home."

"Is that why you come in on weekends, as well?" Mr. Presbo said.

"That's right. Mr. Collins has been generous enough to lend me his time so that I can work. Like I said: he's supportive."

"Olivia," Ms. Tully said. Her face was creased with compassion. "We understand that you're fond of Mr. Collins, and we can see why. We're just a little concerned that perhaps your relationship is a bit…untoward."

Her mouth thinned. "Mr. Collins is always very professional. He has never made me feel uncomfortable. Ever. Which is more than I can say for ninety-eight percent of the guys in this school." She glared at Presbo: he was the one who'd given her detention for punching the handsy guy in her chem lab.

"I'll level with you, Olivia," he said. "A student approached us just before the start of break with some disturbing information. The student said they observed inappropriate behavior between you and Mr. Collins."

Olivia gave a slow, amazed shake of her head. TJ. She couldn't believe it. Destroying her reputation was one thing, but this was a man's career they were talking about.

"That isn't possible, sir. Nothing inappropriate has ever happened between Mr. Collins and me. Like I just told you, he's completely professional."

Ms. Tully patted her hand in a motherly way. "Are you sure you don't want to call your father?"

"No. There's no reason to. This is…this is ridiculous. Mr. Collins would never cross that line with a student. It wouldn't even occur to him!"

"He never touched you?" Ms. Tully said. "Never made any comments?"

"No and no." Her temper was rising, and she'd nearly lost patience with this absurd conversation. "Look, do I need to go under oath or something? I'll tell anyone you want. _Nothing_ happened, _ever_, and it _never_ would. I trust him implicitly."

"So you and Mr. Collins didn't share a hug at the winter art expo banquet?"

Her mouth fell open. "A hug? Is that seriously what this's about?"

"No, Olivia. That's just one example," Ms. Tully said.

"It was just a _hug_! The same way I'd hug my _brother_! You guys are really disgusting. What is this actually about? Mr. Collins, or _me_ because I'm apparently some great big _slut_?"

"That's enough, Olivia," Presbo said.

"He treats me the same as his male students. He doesn't even look at my chest when he talks to me. It's straight in the eye every time, and do you have any idea how rare that is?"

"You don't need to protect him," Ms. Tully said.

"Oh my God! You aren't even _listening_! Who do I need to talk to? I'm serious. This is crap."

Presbo sighed and brushed his hand down his tie. "There's no one to talk to, Olivia. The school board called an emergency session on Friday and made their decision."

"How is that possible? I'm the supposed victim here and you're just now telling me about this."

"It was out of our hands," he said. "To be honest, I believe they acted harshly. We only have one student's word that anything happened, and now you say they were lying. In light of certain…other scuttlebutt being spread around, which Ms. Tully assures me _cannot_ be true, I'm inclined to believe you're telling the truth."

She drew in a harsh breath. "I'm guessing that doesn't matter."

"Unfortunately, no. Mr. Collins wasn't tenured. The board voted to let him go."

She slumped backwards, dazed. "I can't believe this. I can't. What does that even mean? Isn't the teachers' union supposed to protect them from crap like this?"

"His separation didn't mention anything about these allegations," Mr. Presbo said smoothly.

"I see. So his career's only half ruined."

"Olivia—"

She made a quelling gesture. "It's just money," she said. "That's all the Flanarys have. Just _money_. But it's so goddamn important that your school board is willing to fire one of the best teachers at this school over _nothing_. It's bullshit."

"We understand you're upset, Olivia," Ms. Tully said as she and Presbo exchanged a glance, "but there's really no need for such language."

She snorted and scraped a hand down her face. "This has got to be a nightmare."

"Ms. Tully, I think in light of this news we can excuse Olivia from her classes for the rest of the day. Go home, Olivia. Get some rest. Speak with your father. Tomorrow can be a fresh start."

"Right," she said, fighting back tears. "A fresh start at a school where everyone thinks I fellated the football team and banged their favorite teacher out of a job."

She grabbed her backpack and stood up. "Thanks anyway," she said, "but I'd rather just deal with it now. No sense putting it off."

"You know I'm here if you need to talk, Olivia," Ms. Tully said.

"Sure," she replied with a tight smile. "I've got your card."

With that she swung around and slammed through the door and back to another day in algebra with TJ's nasty, smug grin.

* * *

She parked down the block because her car was recognizable to anyone paying attention. She even pulled her hood up over her head to cover her bright hair and slipped on a pair of sunglasses. But when she got to his door she hesitated. Maybe this was a huge mistake.

No. She had to apologize. She had to make sure he knew she hadn't started this bullshit, and that she'd tried to do everything she could to prevent it. Maybe she could write a letter. Start a petition. Heckle the school board. She fucking hated the _unfairness_ of it.

She took a deep breath and knocked. His beat up junker of a car was in the driveway so she knew he was home. She waited. Knocked again. Finally the door swung open and he barked out a sharp _What_? before his eyes widened.

"Holy shit," he muttered and dragged her inside. He shut the door behind them and turned on her. "What are you doing here? Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get in if someone saw you?"

"More trouble than you're already in?" She shoved the hood back, took off her sunglasses, and glared up at him. "I'm not stupid, Mr. C. I parked like a half mile away and I'm in fucking disguise here."

If he could curse so could she.

He raked a hand back through his longish brown hair and tugged at it. "You shouldn't be here at all. What if the cops decided they needed to talk to me? And then you're here in my living room? I'm sure they'd believe me when I told them it was all bullshit."

"The legal age of consent in California is seventeen. I've been seventeen since the first week of November."

He frowned at her. "How do you know that?"

She bit her lip and looked away. Shrugged a little. "I looked it up."

"Why the hell would you look it up?"

"To make sure the cops didn't come after you! And, look, it doesn't matter anyway. Chief Unser does anything Clay says, and if I went to Clay and told him what TJ did—" She broke off and spread her hands.

"Clay Morrow? The SAMCRO guy? Jax Teller's stepfather?"

"Yeah. But, you know, I didn't tell you that."

He let out a jagged laugh. "Right. Of course not." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. "What are you doing here, Ollie?"

"I came to tell you I'm sorry. This is fucking bullshit, and I told them that."

"What exactly did you tell them?"

"That none of it was true," she said with an adamant jerk of her head. "I said you were an awesome teacher, and you never acted improperly. You never did or said anything to make me feel uncomfortable, and when you talk to me…" Her nose scrunched.

"When I talk to you what?"

She waved a hand. "You look at my face. My eyes. Not my boobs. I told them you treat me just like your male students, and that whoever said differently was lying."

He rubbed a hand over his face and spun in a slow, helpless circle. "I guess it didn't do any good."

"They said they'd already made their decision."

"Yeah," he said, bitterly. "Weird how that happened. Didn't even talk to the supposed victim before firing me."

"Yeah, that's what I said. I'm so sorry," she said, tears forming in her eyes. "I had no idea TJ would do something this fucking petty. I mean, the football team rumor—that sucked, but I mean—no big deal. But this? Ruining someone's career? It's like a step beyond."

"One or two," he said with a sardonic lift of his brows. He paused and fixed her with his probing gaze. "No big deal? No big deal that everyone thinks you—you, uh—"

"Gave the entire football team head. It's okay; you can say it."

"Gave the entire football team head," he said with a frown. "I saw how it was for you that week before break. You really trying to tell me it's no big deal?"

"Not as big a deal as this." She took a step closer. "Mr. Collins—"

"Ben," he said.

"Hm?"

"It's my name. Ben. I'm not your teacher anymore, Olivia, and I was always uncomfortable with the whole _Mr_. _Collins_ thing."

"Ben," she repeated. "Um. I, uh."

Her train of thought evaporated and she fiddled with the zipper on her jacket. He wasn't her teacher anymore. Everyone in Charming thought they were fucking. It wasn't illegal. She'd had a crush on him since ninth grade.

Was that why she'd come over here? Was the apology thing just a pretense? Maybe, partly, but also because she couldn't stand the idea of him thinking badly of her—especially _so_ badly.

She smiled a little. "You know if I were going to have an affair with a teacher, it would've been you."

"I'd hope so," he said. "The next youngest is forty-eight and married."

The dimple in her chin flashed as she grinned. "How do you know that's not my kink? Middle aged men with belly paunches?" As soon as she said it her cheeks flushed; had she seriously just said the word _kink_ to Mr. Collins?

"And here I thought your kink was gang bangs in the boys' locker room."

Her mouth fell open. "Wow. Kind of a cheap shot, Mist—Ben."

He acknowledged that with a quirk of his brows and slid his hands in his pockets. "Sorry. It really was."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "I mean, it _does_, but whatever."

"Olivia—" He hesitated. Looked away with a frown, and when he looked back his expression was unreadable. "You know anyone who actually matters—anyone who really knows you or cares about you—didn't believe that bullshit."

Her lips twisted and she rubbed the back of her neck. "Did you believe it?"

"No!" he said. "God no. You're not…you wouldn't…no. I didn't believe it."

"You know—and I haven't told anyone this, so…but I wouldn't care so much if I'd actually done it. I mean, if I'd really blown the entire football team, fine, whatever. My life my choice, right? Or if you and I had actually—" She broke off and gestured between them.

"It doesn't bother me if people think I'm a slut because it doesn't matter. What bothers me is people think I'm a slut and I'm. Not. I'm actually pretty fucking…I don't know. Not innocent, but. Not slutty, either."

He lifted a wary brow. "I'm going to ask you an incredibly inappropriate question, so feel free to walk out."

She made an impatient noise. "No, I'm not a virgin. But I also didn't sleep with TJ, which is probably part of why he's so fucking miffed."

"You've got a really foul mouth," he said, but in a way that made her grin.

"Well yeah. It can't be that much a surprise. You were around on Saturdays." She never watched her language on those days, when no one else was around and she was basically alone with her work.

His head fell back in a laugh. "Didn't really think I should say anything, since it was Saturday."

"It was still school, and you were still my teacher."

"Not anymore," he said in a quiet voice.

She cut a sharp look at him, and for a moment the air between them was thick and tense. Their eyes met. She'd never noticed the gold-ish flecks amidst the brown. She felt heat across her face and knew she had gone red. Sometimes she hated having such pale skin; she couldn't hide anything.

He swallowed hard and his gaze flicked away. "You should probably go."

"Probably," she agreed with a tilt of her head. She took another step toward him and was glad when he didn't back away. "Or I could stay."

"Stay? What, for, like, tea?"

"I like tea. But that wasn't really what I was thinking."

"This conversation has already gotten way too—"

"Way too what? Intense?"

"I was going to say inappropriate."

Her mouth curved in a sardonic smile. "That's one word for it."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Did you really come here to apologize?"

"I'm ninety-five percent sure that's why I came."

"What's the other five percent?" he said.

She had drifted even closer during the last few moments, and now they were inches apart. He pressed his hands to her shoulders to ward her off.

"I think whatever it is I don't want to know."

Except his pupils were huge, and now his face was flushed, too. He clearly did want to know, but she suspected his own personal morality was a little too well-honed to mess around with a girl who'd been his student up until a few days ago.

And, honestly, she wasn't sure if any of this was a good idea or not. But she was sick of…her _life_. Her new life since TJ Flanary. She was sick of the looks and the whispers, and at this point what did she have left to lose? She was already an outcast from all but her closest friends. He'd already been fired.

"Olivia, listen," he said; he sounded tense; "you're a beautiful girl, and smart as hell. Talented. Funny. You know I'm a fan of your work, and your bluntness is—refreshing, even when it's alarming."

"Are you trying to reject me or get in my pants?"

He choked on a laugh. "That isn't funny."

"You just said I'm funny."

"Not all the time."

"Then don't laugh," she said with a half smile. "Mr. Collins. Ben. I already told you I'm not a virgin. You wouldn't be taking advantage of me. I know what sex is about, and I'm not afraid of it."

He snorted. "You know what sex is about? You're seventeen, right?"

"We covered that, yeah."

"We know you didn't blow the football team, and you haven't been fucking me, so how many people have you slept with?"

"Two," she said after a moment.

"The Winston kid, I'm guessing, and…who, since it wasn't TJ? Jax Teller?"

"Ew," she said. "No. It was just some guy at a party."

"A party hookup. Yeah, Ollie, you know all about sex."

Her chin came up. "You don't need to be mean about it. All I meant was that it isn't a big deal. People think sex is this magical thing, this great Dionysian mystery. But it's fucking not. It's just something two people do—or more than two, fuck, I'm not gonna judge—when they like each other or they hate each other or they're just fucking bored. It doesn't mean shit."

"That's what you think?" he said.

She was acutely aware that he hadn't let go of her shoulders, and now one of his hands slid down to her elbow. She eyed it. "That's exactly what I think. I'm sick of being told my virginity and my chastity are sacred. That's bullshit. I'm sick of being told that a girl enjoying sex is something shameful or cheap. It isn't, and I'm tired of the double standard."

He studied her so long she had to fight the urge to fidget. Finally he said, "Do you?"

"Do I…what?"

His mouth moved in an impatient moue. "Enjoy sex, Olivia."

"Um. I mean, yeah. It's…it's great."

He huffed out a laugh. "Your enthusiasm is palpable."

She gave a restless shrug. "I like it well enough by myself," she admitted, unable to meet his eyes as she said it, "but so far I've been a bit underwhelmed by experiences with the opposite sex. Or with the same sex, for that matter, but that didn't really go beyond heavy petting."

She refused to think about the kiss with Ortiz on Christmas. That had been a fluke and wasn't at all relevant to this (admittedly bizarre) conversation. When she turned her attention back to him she could tell he was surprised. She blinked up at him.

"What? Shocked to hear I've made out with a girl?"

"Uhh…I don't know. More like, um…"

"Imagining it," she said with a grimace. "Big fucking surprise."

"No," he said and pulled himself together. "Just kind of shocked that hadn't made the rumor mill."

"Oh." She flicked her fingers. "It was a girl I met at a club in Stockton. Tara and I went as a lark, and I figured why not? It was fun. Not earth-shattering. But fun."

She'd only had one earth-shattering kiss in her life, but she _was not thinking about that_.

"So—Jesus _Christ_ I can't believe I'm about to say this—so have you ever…? I mean has a guy ever…?" He trailed off and she took pity on him.

"I've never come with someone else, no."

He stared at her. "Never? Party hookup I can understand, but weren't you and Winston a thing?"

"We were, and he was super enthusiastic and everything, but, I mean…neither of us really had a clue what we were doing. That doesn't exactly lead to…the _1812 Overture_."

"I bet he got off."

"Duh. _He_ always gets off."

"Olivia—you know—it's not really supposed to work that way. It doesn't have to work that way."

She shrugged off his hold and turned away, rolling her eyes. "Of course I do. Why do you think I didn't have sex with TJ? I had a pretty decent idea how high my good time was ranked on his priority list."

His head fell back. He seemed to be appealing to some higher power for…whatever. Patience or sanity or something. Finally he dropped his chin and held out a hand to her. "Come here," he said, gently.

"I'm not your student anymore, Ben. I don't need you to teach me about the birds and the bees."

"Olivia." He made a frustrated gesture at the couch. "Would you please just sit down a minute?"

She lifted a brow and smoothed her skirt under her as she sat. She was wearing the same thing she'd worn to school that day: a cream and blue long sleeve plaid dress that hit just above her knee, paired with hiking boots; but somehow she suddenly felt exposed. She shrugged out of her jacket with a very sincere _fuck you_ to any nerves that threatened.

He sank down next to her and offered a warm smile. "You're one of my favorite students, Ollie. Teachers aren't supposed to say that, but I'm not a teacher anymore so I guess it's okay. I always enjoyed your work, and fostering your talent. I also like that you never let the guys in class give you shit. You're sort of forging your way through a man's world without losing who you are, and I admire that."

"But…?" she said.

"But you're a seventeen-year-old girl and I'm a twenty-six-year-old guy. It's not appropriate for us to be having this conversation. At all. On any level."

She brushed a bit of lint off her sleeve and gave him a long, careful look. "What if you'd met me somewhere else? I mean, what if you'd never been my teacher? Like I'd met you in that club instead of that girl. What then?"

He shook his head. "You're really young, and I—"

"It's not against the law."

"It's not just about legality, Ollie."

He was the only teacher who called her _Ollie_. The only teacher who hadn't given her quiet, pitying looks after TJ's gossip came out. The only _guy_ besides the ones in her circle—and weird Chucky from English Lit—who hadn't gotten that leering gleam in his eye every time he saw her.

She crossed one leg over the other and leaned closer. "Answer the question. What if we met somewhere else, and we—I don't know. Bonded over art. Maybe we even met at a show. And I came over to hang out one day and we ended up in this conversation. What. Then?"

He dropped his forehead into his hand. Let out a long, hard breath before he met her eyes again. "I would—" He shifted his weight. "I would ask you if—if, uh…"

She grinned. "I'm gonna be _eighteen_ before you manage to spit it out."

He made a face at her. "I would ask if Winston or party boy ever bothered to go down on you, or if it was just a one-and-done type thing," he said in a rush.

"Oh." Her mouth quirked. "Party boy, no. It was definitely one-and-done. Opie and I…" She hesitated. "Opie and I tried a few different things, but not that. He…offered once, but—I don't know. I guess maybe I didn't feel comfortable with it. Why? You offering?"

She said it as a joke, but the look on his face widened her eyes and brought another lick of color to her cheeks.

"Oh," she said again, a short breath of surprise.

"Not offering, per se," he said. "Just—"

"Thinking about it," she said when he broke off.

"Really, really thinking about it," he muttered.

She turned her head to hide a smile. She had two choices: stand up and walk out right now, or stand up and…

She rose to her feet and pulled her dress over her head. His eyes went huge, but that was nothing compared to his expression when she pushed him back against the couch and lowered herself onto his lap. She kissed his neck and he pressed his hands to her shoulders again.

"Ollie, this isn't—"

"Appropriate," she murmured into his jaw. "I know." She lifted her head and smiled, slow and lazy. "What are you thinking about now?"

"Not entirely sure," he said in a strained voice.

"Hhhmm." She nibbled his earlobe. "I have a few ideas."

"This can't happen, Olivia," he said. He sounded a little out of breath, and his hands had drifted down to her hips. She was pretty sure he didn't realize that.

"Sure it can." She ran her tongue along his jaw. "All we need is a condom and a flat surface. We've already got the second one."

"Condoms, uh, in the—in the bedroom." The last word came out as a squeak as she wiggled against him. He shook his head and his eyes turned hard. "We don't need a condom."

"I'm on the Pill, but I do prefer backup."

"We don't need a condom because that's not what's happening here." He slid one hand under her ass and wrapped the other arm around her waist. Flipped her onto her back and followed so that he was braced above her.

Now it was her turn to sound breathless. "So you'll go down on me but you won't fuck me?"

"One step at a time," he said on a growl.

He kissed her then, slow and hot, and he spent a long time about it. He lingered over her mouth. The soft white column of her neck. He seemed fascinated by her collarbones, and the pulse that beat in the hollow of her throat. He nipped her clavicles with his lips, and she made a delighted little noise as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

He drifted lower, moving so slow as to be excruciating. He kissed her nipples through the pale blue lace of her bra, and when she squirmed he reached behind her for the clasp and got rid of it. He stayed there forever: used his lips and teeth and tongue, his fingers and his rough palms, to tease and stroke until they felt taut and flushed and impossibly sensitive.

He caressed her thigh with one hand as he toyed with her breasts. He tickled the silky skin on the inside and snapped the waistband of her panties. She giggled, and angled her body towards him, but he cast her a sly grin and made no move toward the aching spot between her legs.

She had no idea how long he explored her body, tasting and touching and driving her higher and higher, but by the time he finally tugged her panties off she thought she might die from wanting. When he finally, finally buried his face in her wet, swollen vulva she thought maybe, for the first time in her life, she understood what all the fuss was about.

"Oh my God oh my God holy _shit_," she whispered in a breathless rush.

His laugh was a warm ripple against her skin. He took his time. Stopped to check in, ask her what she liked, gauge her reaction to this swirl of his tongue or that stroke of his finger.

"You're not—my teacher—anymore," she gasped through her moans. "You don't—have to—demonstrate."

"Shut up, Olivia," he said with a smile. "If you don't know what you like, you can't tell the next clueless idiot what to do. Just relax and enjoy it."

"I _am_ en—ooo, I like _that_," she said as his lips clamped around her clit. She felt his beard rub against her when he grinned, and that was it. She let out a quiet cry and the heat exploded through her. He made low, rumbling noises of pleasure as she came, her entire body going tight and her fingers clutching his hair. Pulse after pulse, wave after wave, like a flurry of bright, hot fireworks.

"Fuck," she rasped. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!"

He sucked softly on her labia as she spiraled back down, and when she was finally coherent again she smiled at him. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with barely a hint of green around the huge pupils.

"Okay," she said. "You win. I'm clueless."

He laughed. "Not as clueless as you were half an hour ago. But more clueless than you'll be a few minutes from now."

"What's gonna happen in a few minutes?"

He slid a finger into her and pressed it against her G-spot. "Orgasm number two."

* * *

_Yesterday after I published ch8 I was thrown into a sort of existential crisis. Is this the direction I wanted to go? Did I just want to throw out everything I'd written from chapters 9-12 and start all over? But then I thought about it, and I re-read everything, and no. I stand by this chapter and all its implications._

_Olivia's in kind of a bad place right now, and while this is partly step one in a self-destructive spiral, it's also step one in her road to rebuilding herself post-TJ. Ultimately, of course, this is a story about Juice and Olivia, and everything that happens builds toward that._

_Oh, and the age of consent in CA is 18, but what's an au for if not au-ing things?_

_I'd love to hear your thoughts!_


	10. Porcelain

Thanks for the comments last chapter, loves. :) This chapter has me wanting to a 90s movie marathon so bad. Who's with me?

* * *

**just the other day i felt i had you by a string**  
**just the other day i felt we could be everything**  
**but now when i see you, you're somebody else**  
**with somebody's eyes and your skin**  
**your skin is like porcelain**  
**yeah, your skin is like porcelain**  
Better Than Ezra, "Porcelain"

Olivia had been practically falling asleep at her desk all day. She was exhausted, but in a pleasant, happy way. Lately the nasty little whispers and barbed comments had just rolled off her. She'd told herself before she didn't care…and now she _really_ didn't. It didn't matter what they said, or that everyone in metal shop blamed her for what happened to Ben.

She listened to them talk and snickered. They would all shit themselves if they knew.

She gave a languorous stretch and ducked her head to hide a grin. Tara elbowed her and lifted her brows. Olivia gave her an innocent look and shrugged.

"Ms. Gable, Ms. Knowles, is there something you need to share with all of us?" Mr. Thompson, their English Lit teacher, said from the front of the room.

Olivia stifled a giggle and Tara rolled her eyes. "Jane should've dumped him when she found out about the crazy wife in the attic," Tara said.

"She didn't exactly have a lot of career options," Olivia said.

"So she should just accept crazy attic wife?" Tara countered.

"I didn't say that. I just mean sometimes you're trapped in your circumstances and your decisions are influenced by things that might not even be on the page."

Mr. Thompson cleared his throat. "All right, ladies, thank you. But as you know _Jane Eyre_ was last week. Can we please concentrate on Lord Byron?"

"Sure," they said with matching shrugs.

Olivia opened her mouth to say something else, but he cut her off with a lifted hand. "Moving on," he said. He turned back to the board and resumed the lesson.

When class was finally over Tara dragged Olivia into the girls' room and chased everyone out before she rounded on her with a hard glare.

"What the fuck is going on with you? And don't try to lie to me, because I've known you since second grade and I know when something's up. You've been weird ever since we got back from break."

Olivia grinned and lifted her hands. "Just livin' life," she said.

"Are you on _drugs_? Why are you acting so..._giddy_?" Her eyes went wide and she slapped a palm over her mouth. "Oh my God you're fucking Juice."

"What? Holy—no, I'm not fucking Juice. Why would you think I'm fucking _Juice_?"

Tara's eyes narrowed at the way she said it: she wasn't asking why Tara would ask if she were fucking someone, just why she'd chosen Juice. "Hum," she said. She leaned against one of the sinks and crossed her arms. "I don't know. I thought maybe after what happened at Christmas—"

"Tara, please stop bringing that up. It didn't mean anything."

"Protest much, Gertrude?"

She rolled her eyes and squared her jaw.

Tara recognized that stubborn expression. "If it's not Juice, then who?"

Color flooded Olivia's face and she looked away. "I don't know why you assume that's what's going on."

Tara lifted a brow. "For the last two weeks you've done your shifts at TM and disappeared. No one can find you on the weekends. You aren't at home, or else you're just ignoring the phone. You're not online. I drove by your house the other day and the Cougar was there but you weren't."

She stepped closer and lowered her voice even though they were alone. "So who is it? A girl? Is that why you're not telling anyone? You know we don't care about that."

"So you thought it might be Ortiz because I'm not talking about it?"

"You seem so adamantly opposed to the idea, and I know you hate to admit it when you're wrong."

She tucked her hands in her jeans pockets. "I'm not sleeping with Juice. It's not about stubbornness."

She didn't tell Tara about the suspicion that had been growing for the past several days: that Juice had been the one to go to Presbo with the accusations about Ben. She wanted to blame TJ with all her heart, but honestly it just didn't make much sense. How would he know enough to make up a story like that? He had no idea how close they'd been.

"Are you going to tell me or what?" Tara said with a frown.

Olivia sighed. She checked the stalls again just to be sure, and stuck the doorstop under the edge of the door to wedge it closed. "Okay, but listen: you can't tell _anyone_. Not Jax. Not Donna. _Anyone_, Tara. Got it?"

Her brow furrowed, but she nodded. "Yeah, Ollie, I get it. Big secret. Best friend level clearance only."

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "The story about Mr. Collins and me is a lie. He was my favorite teacher, but that was it, ever."

"I know that," Tara said with a shake of her head. "It's just more of TJ's asshole shenanigans. What does that have to do with—" She broke off. Blinked. Then went perfectly still, like her batteries had run down or something.

Olivia waited her out.

Tara lifted a hand, and when she spoke again it was in a low, furious whisper. "Olivia Jameson Gable, are you trying to tell me you're fucking Mr. Collins? After everything? He got fired because of that shit!"

"No kidding. But they can't fire him twice."

"I know he's hot, but he's like _thirty_, Olivia!"

She made a face. "He's twenty-six."

"That is nine years older than you!"

"I can do basic math, Tara."

"Why are you being so calm about this? Do you not understand what a big deal this is?"

"Of course I do. But it's not—we're not in a _relationship_. It's just…a thing. That's happening. That's. _Really_ happening."

Tara's mouth fell open. "What exactly is that look?"

"Tara." She gripped her friend's arm. "I have never—I mean I had no idea—he made me come _four times_ yesterday, Tara. _Four_. I didn't even know that was possible. Over the last two weeks I think I've had more orgasms than in my entire life before that combined."

Her eyes widened a little. "Are you serious? I mean, does he do that weird tantra thing like Sting where he can keep it up for hours?"

Olivia waved a hand. "It's not like that. Sometimes we don't even have sex."

"I don't get it."

"We talk a lot. I mean, a _lot_. And then he'll spend like an hour—or more even—just…and he always asks like what's working and what isn't and if I like that better or this better, and just…paying attention."

"Wait." Tara closed her eyes and seemed to be playing the last several seconds of their conversation over again. She opened them and fixed Olivia with a disbelieving stare. "You're saying he'll spend _hours_ on _you_? Without getting his dick involved?"

Olivia nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Is he gay?"

"No, Tara! We have sex sometimes—plenty of times—just not every time. And trust me he has no problem getting it up."

"Then what's in it for him?"

"He's just—I mean, we're just—he's sort of like…teaching me." It sounded so weird when she said it out loud, so clinical, but she couldn't really explain what it was like.

"Teaching you. How to fuck."

She slumped against the sinks next to her. "No, that part's easy. He's teaching me how to _enjoy_ it. Because life's too short for bad sex."

"Oh my God." Tara pressed a hand to her forehead. "Well, I mean, he _was_ your fucking teacher."

Olivia giggled. "Now he's my _fucking_ teacher."

"You're going to Hell," she said even as she laughed.

"Oh, babe. Totally. Worth. It."

She laughed harder. "How are you having better sex than me? That's not fair."

"You need to tell him."

"Tell who what?"

She sighed and nudged Tara with her shoulder. "Tell _Jax_ what he should _do_. If he's not getting the job done, talk to him about it."

"I can't just—that's—Olivia, come on."

"I'm serious, Tara. How's he gonna know if you don't tell him?" She paused. "Do you fake it?"

Tara squirmed a little. "Sometimes."

Olivia eyed her.

"Most of the time," she admitted with a frown.

"Yeah, see. If you do that how's he supposed to know? He thinks he's king of the world because he makes his girlfriend come at the drop of a hat, and meanwhile you're waiting for him to leave so you can dig out your vibrator."

She choked out a laugh. "Ollie!" She shook her head a little. "I don't know. Wouldn't that, like…hurt his feelings? To know he's not…"

She trailed off and Olivia lifted a brow. "If his ego's so fragile he can't handle a little course correction then he has bigger problems. Look, you aren't telling him he's shit in bed. You're just telling him what you like. You're telling him he needs to pay attention, and that _his_ orgasm isn't the be-all, end-all. And, I mean, it's kinda sexy. More than kinda. It's really fucking sexy. Once you get past the awkward bit at the beginning."

"It's the awkward bit at the beginning that worries me."

Someone banged on the bathroom door when it wouldn't open.

"Fuck off!" Tara yelled. "We're busy in here!"

There was a flurry of angry whispers before the voices faded and it was quiet again. The second bell had rung several minutes ago, but apparently they'd both decided to skip their next class without even talking about it beforehand.

"So, okay, I get that," Olivia said as if they hadn't been interrupted. "But you trust Jax, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Okay. Then how bad could it be? You love each other. He probably _wants_ to know what you like. And, I mean, if he doesn't—?" She lifted her arms in a shrug.

"That's a point, I guess. God I can't believe you're fucking Mr. Collins."

"I kind of can't either," Olivia admitted. "I know it's not—it's not the best idea. And it wasn't like I planned it. But holy shit we're having so much fun."

"How did it even happen?"

She hitched a bemused shoulder. "I went over there to apologize. I wanted to make sure he didn't think I'd said anything or done anything to make people think there was something going on."

"And, what, you fell on his dick?"

She started to elbow her, but then stopped short and tilted her head. "Maybe sort of. A little." She gave Tara a recap of their weird conversation, and then the move she'd done with her dress and his lap.

Tara blinked. "Olivia, I love you, but that is maybe the craziest fucking thing I've ever heard."

"No shit. I still—like, I think back on it and I'm amazed. I've never done anything even remotely like that in my life. I always wait for them to come to me, for them to make the move, but it's like I looked at my life and I looked at all this fucking _bullshit_ and I was so goddamn mad. And I was sick of letting everyone else make moves around me while I just stood still and reacted."

"So you decided to switch from goalie to forward."

Tara played soccer up through eighth grade, and she still thought in sports metaphors about forty-five percent of the time. "Something like that, yeah."

"I guess I get that." She pursed her lips. "I just worry about you, Ollie. It's a pretty extreme reaction to TJ's bullshit."

"You told me I should find someone to fuck until I got over TJ."

"I meant _Juice_! Someone our age! A college freshman at the oldest. Not your former _teacher_ who's nine years older than you!"

"Will you keep your voice down? Someone could hear you! You think I haven't thought every single thing you're saying? It's _not_ a relationship. I'm not hung up on him, and I have no intention of _getting_ hung up."

"You can't say that, Ollie. Sometimes shit just happens."

"Not to me, Tara. Not anymore. I'm doing this to take control of my life. It's my decision. My choice. All those people out there who want to call me a slut and a whore and talk about me behind my back can fuck themselves. I'm done being afraid. I'm done being a victim. I'm done having sex used as a weapon _against_ me. I'm having a good time with Ben, and that's what I want right now. Everything else is just noise."

Tara gave a weary shake of her head. "All right, Ollie. Girl power. I guess I kind of envy you. I mean, above and beyond the hot and cold running orgasms."

"Talk to Jax. Seriously. You won't regret it."

"Maybe you're right."

"I _am_ right. Is this the glowing skin and relaxed countenance of a woman who would lie to you?"

"Smug bitch," she said with a twisted smile.

Olivia shrugged and flashed a mischievous grin. "Guilty as charged."

* * *

Tara had been thinking about her conversation with Ollie all day. She was worried about her, like she'd said, but at the same time she really did envy her. She was confident and happy and more like herself than Tara had seen her in months. It didn't _sound_ like Mr. Collins was being a creep, and if he _was_—at least it included a whole lot of orgasms. And for all that the whole thing was kinda weird, he was better than TJ Flanary.

Jax had to work at TM that afternoon, and while she should've been doing her homework Tara thought about what Olivia had said. She loved Jax, and their sex life was fine. Mostly. Sometimes Tara felt like it was something she wanted to get over with so she could finish up her math homework, and she definitely understood that wasn't the attitude you should have about sex with the guy you loved.

She drummed her fingers on the desk. Gemma had given Tara the sex talk, too, and one thing she'd said stuck out in her mind now: _if you can't talk about it, you shouldn't be doing it._

If she were afraid to talk to Jax about making things better, then why was she sleeping with him at all? She threw down her pencil with a frustrated huff and picked up the phone.

It rang four times before Ollie answered. She sounded out of breath.

"Not interrupting something, am I?" Tara said with a smirk.

"Umm…I'm sort of on the other line but let me go get rid of him."

She let out a shocked laugh. "Olivia!"

"Shut up. Be right back."

Tara doodled a little while she waited. Maybe she should hang up and call back later. Let her finish…whatever she was doing. She debated it until abruptly Olivia was back.

"Hey, babe. What's up?"

"Was he mad?" Tara said.

"Ha. No. I told him it was you, and best friend always trumps guy. Every time."

Tara muffled a giggle. "Were you seriously having phone sex with Mr. Collins?"

"_Ben_. And. Well, yeah."

"Jesus, Ollie."

"You and Jax should try it sometime. It's fun."

Tara hesitated. "Um, you know, it's funny you should say that."

"Ooo. I'm intrigued."

She scribbled through the doodle she'd made and started another one. Dropped her pencil again and sighed. "Okay, time to get personal."

"Please. I think we threw _off limits_ out the window right about the time we got drunk and made out."

"True," she said with a laugh. "I've actually been thinking a lot about our conversation earlier. About how you said I should talk to Jax?"

"Um hum. You're wondering where to start?"

"Yeah. And what to say."

"Maybe don't say much at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, like, instead of starting the conversation with _hey, Jackson, you need to quit thinking about your wiener and pay proper worship to my glorious femininity_—"

"Christ, Ollie."

"You could ask him if he'd like to watch you."

"Watch me…?"

"Tara. If he sees what you do when you're _alone_, it can give him an idea of what he should do when you're _together_. Right?"

Tara's mouth fell open. "Huh" was all she managed.

"And make sure he understands that's why you're doing it. Tell him after if you want, but he might not pay as much attention if he doesn't get it. Or you could tell him after and be like _so you need me to show you again, chief?_ Or _now you try_, but that time you talk him through it if he gets stuck or too hasty or whatever. And make it like his penis isn't even an option until you're ready for it to be."

She rubbed a hand across her forehead. "Do you think—I mean, do you think he'd like that?"

"Trust me, Tara. He'll like it. Maybe not with a casual hookup, but with you? He'll like it. Is he coming over tonight?"

"Yeah. He should be here pretty soon, actually."

"Perfect. Put on that thong you bought the other week and rock his world."

"You did not just say that."

"I did. But let's pretend I didn't."

"Ollie, you—oh shit I think I hear his bike."

"Good luck. Tell me how it goes, okay?"

"Uh huh. You calling him back?"

"Duh."

She laughed. "Have fun, tramp."

"You too, bitch."

"Love you."

"I know." Olivia cackled and hung up before Tara could respond, and she was left staring at the phone and rolling her eyes.

* * *

Olivia picked Tara up the next morning—they'd started switching off to save gas—and she slid in the car with a smug grin and a sigh.

"Good morning, best friend forever Olivia Jameson."

"And to you, Tara Grace." She grinned. "I'm guessing it went well."

She fell back against the seat and giggled. Her eyes were bright, and she had the loopy smile of a drunkard. "You could say that."

"I told you he'd like it."

"You were right. And you were right about him thinking everything was hunky-dory. He was clueless."

Olivia smirked. "You offered to educate him, I hope."

"Oh yeah. For once in his life I think he's actually gonna pay attention to class."

"It's a brave new world, _chica_, and life's too short for bad sex."

"Fuck yeah," Tara said.

"Fuck yeah," Olivia echoed as they bumped the backs of their hands together.

She cranked the radio and they sang along to "My Sharona" until Olivia turned into the school parking lot. The climbed out of the car and Tara poked her arm as they came around the hood.

"We should do a movie marathon this weekend. _Reality Bites_."

"_Clueless_."

"_Empire Records_."

"Damn the man," Olivia said.

"Save the Empire. Unless, of course, you have plans with _you-know-who_."

"Lord Voldemort?"

Tara rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."

"Nah, I just babysit. _You-know-who_ can take care of himself, I'm sure. He's a grownup."

"Who is?" a voice said from behind them. "Lord Voldemort?"

Tara gasped out a laugh. "Hey, Juice," she said and lifted her brows at Olivia.

"Yeah, Ortiz," Olivia said and rolled her eyes. "Lord Voldemort."

"There's Jax," Tara said. "I wonder if I can talk him into skipping homeroom."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Olivia said. Then, "Oh wait I'm the one who blew the entire football team and fucked my teacher out of a job."

Juice choked, but Tara just shot a grin over her shoulder as she sprinted across the parking lot. "What was that about?" he said when she was out of earshot.

Olivia cast him a cold look. "Don't you usually park over there with Ope and Jax?"

"I did. I just saw you guys pull in, so I thought I'd come over to say hi. Make sure you got in okay."

"Thanks, but I don't really need the type of help you're offering."

He blinked at her. "What does that mean?"

"Please," she said. "As if you don't know."

He scrubbed a hand through his short hair. "I really don't, Liv."

"Get in the car," she said.

"Huh?"

"_Get_ in the _car_."

He held up a hand and slid into the passenger seat. She slammed the driver's door and turned the radio up. "You went to Presbo about Mr. Collins."

"What…about Mr. Collins?"

"Ortiz! Quit playing dumb. I know you're the one who told Presbo that Mr. Collins and I were fucking."

He spluttered and coughed, and when he finally had enough breath to speak he couldn't think of anything to say.

"We weren't, by the way," she said. "So thanks for that."

"Olivia, shit, I never—"

"No? Even after that conversation we had about how you were _interrupting_ something and Mr. C was giving me a _look_?"

He barely even remembered that conversation. "You said—you said it was nothing. That I was imagining things."

"Of course I did. Because you were!"

"Okay, so…? You said that, I believed you, and that was it. And even if you'd stood there and said you'd just—um." He rubbed a hand down his face. "If you'd told me I was right and there was somethin' going on, I wouldn't have _ratted_, Olivia. It's your life, for fuck's sake. You want to sleep with your teacher, fine. You wanna blow the whole goddamn football team, fine. You wanna let that asshole TJ Flanary get away with trying to rape you, _fine_!"

"What the fuck, Ortiz? You don't have any right—"

"You're right. I don't. You've made that real fucking clear."

"Why are you so mad at me? _You_ are the one who—"

"Who _what_, Olivia? Who picked you up off the side of the road and let you cry all over me and never said a single word to anyone about it? Even when TJ started that fucking rumor, I kept my mouth shut. Now you're accusing me of ratting out you and Mr. Collins like I'd even fucking _care_!"

"I never said you cared! And, what? You were nice to me so now I should be sucking _your_ dick, too? That isn't how life works, Ortiz!"

"Jesus Christ, Olivia, what is your problem? Did I say that? All I said was I don't appreciate you accusing me when I'm the one keeping your fucking secret!"

"Well let me get you a goddamn medal!"

They were both full-on yelling, and despite the volume of the radio she was sure people could hear them. Luckily the lot was mostly empty by now, but that meant they were both going to be late to class. It didn't occur to either of them to care.

"I don't get you, Olivia. I really don't. We had that—moment or whatever—the night you broke up with TJ—"

"There was no _moment_."

"Whatever. Then at Christmas—"

"Don't even mention that. We already decided what that was."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes furious and his voice a challenge. "What it _was _was fucking incredible and you know it."

That took the wind out of her sails. Her mouth fell open and she stared at him. Color rode high on her cheeks, and her eyes were as green as he'd ever seen. She was a panting, pint-size storm of rage, and he suddenly wanted her so bad it _hurt_.

"Don't look at me like that, Ortiz," she said on a hard breath.

"Like what?" he said, his mouth curving up just a little.

"However it is you're looking at me now," she whispered.

"That's just the way my face looks when I look at you," he murmured.

Her lips quirked. "Smooth motherfucker."

They were both leaning over the center console, and somehow their faces were so close she could feel his breath on her skin, a warm tingle across her lips. If either of them turned their head just a fraction they'd be kissing again, and they'd both be lying if they said that wasn't the number one thing on their minds just then.

She blinked but didn't move. "We should get out of the car now."

"Not sure we're done here."

"I think we are."

"I didn't rat you out, Olivia."

"I'm fucking Mr. Collins."

His eyes went round—like perfectly round, which was amazing considering their shape—and he reeled backwards like she'd punched him.

"What the fuck?" he said in a croak.

"I just thought you should know what a slut I am, since you seem to have me up on some sort of pedestal." Her eyes were bright and steady on his as she smiled. "Do you want to fuck me, Juice?" she said, quietly.

"Wh—what?" Who. The fuck. _Was_ this girl?

"It's a simple question. Yes or no."

"I don't think you're a slut, Olivia. I don't care if you are or not. I mean—I don't care—who you have sex with."

"Right. Because you don't care."

He made a frustrated gesture. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant it doesn't make a difference to…to how I feel about you. I mean, to whether or not I want to—"

"Fuck me."

"_Hang out_ with you."

"Mmm," she said, a low, skeptical noise. "So your answer is no?"

"I—you can't just—Jesus, Liv, what kinda question is that?"

"An attempt at transparency. I think it's a refreshing change from rumors and lies."

He threw up his hands. "I'm a sixteen-year-old guy. You're cute and have a great rack. Of course I want to have sex with you!"

Her brow furrowed and she sat back. "So it's just physical attraction?"

"Sure, yeah, I guess."

"Did you think I'd have sex with you after you picked me up that night?"

He made a face. "Of course not. That's gross, Olivia. Are you seriously with Mr. Collins?"

"I'm not _with_ him," she said with a dismissive flick of her fingers. "We're just having sex. Everyone thought we were before, so why not?"

"You weren't before?"

She let out an exasperated huff. "No, of course not. I told you that."

"You're a very confusing person, Olivia."

She slumped a little and drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. "You should be inside my head."

He took a deep breath. "Look, I get that you don't think about me that way. What happened at Christmas really was just a fluke for you, but—"

Her face twisted. "Don't be an idiot, Ortiz. Of course I think about you that way. Of course that kiss wasn't a fluke." She rolled her eyes and her mouth moved in a grimace. "I think about you all the time. Why do you think I work so hard to keep you away?"

The air left his lungs in a short, hard _whoosh_. She thought about him _all the time_? Like _all_ the time? In class? Eating dinner? In the shower? He thought about her in the shower sometimes—_her_ in the shower, but also while _he_ was in the shower. Sometimes both at the same time.

He shook his head to clear away the images.

"I'm even more confused now," he said when he could speak again.

She lifted a hand in a slow shrug. "This thing with Ben—Mr. Collins—is just a…thing. I mean, I like him, and we're having fun, but it's just killing time. He's twenty-six. I'm seventeen. Obviously it's not going anywhere." She worried her lip with her teeth. "That's all I have the head space for right now. I can't handle anything…important."

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and her expression was…he didn't know. Imploring, a little? That didn't seem like her.

Of course, he never would've thought she would fuck her teacher, either.

She poked him. "Are you listening?"

"Um. Yeah. And, c'mon, I get it. You think I'm with Dana Riley because of our deep spiritual connection?"

"Damn, Ortiz," she said with a laugh. "That's not very nice."

"I don't mean anything bad. She's not lookin' for a deep spiritual connection, either. We just—we understand each other. It's easy." When she wasn't getting pissed at him about Olivia, that is.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I get that."

"I guess that's how things are with you and…" He waved a hand. He couldn't actually say it out loud; it was too weird.

"Basically, yeah."

A silence fell. The car felt too warm, too close, but neither of them moved to roll down a window. The radio went quiet as the soft, haunting bars of that Mazzy Star song filtered through the speakers. She reached for the knob with a frown, but Juice stopped her.

"Don't. I kinda dig this song."

She eyed him. "Really?"

"I don't know. It's kinda nice."

She fell back, her head against the rest, and rubbed her thumb across a smooth spot on the steering wheel. They listened for a time, and finally Olivia nodded. "Yeah," she murmured. "I guess it is."

Juice cleared his throat. Shifted his weight and looked out the window. "You in love with him?" he said, so fast she wasn't sure she understood.

"In love? With—? God no. Weren't you listening? That's the point. No danger of that."

He turned back to her with a frown between his brows. "You ever been in love?"

She looked like he'd asked if she'd undergone Chinese water torture. "No," she said. "Thankfully."

His lips twisted. "If you've never done it, how do you know it's so awful? Jax and Tara seem pretty damn happy."

"No offense, but you haven't known Jax and Tara that long. They're happy _now_. Give them six months."

"Okay, so, what about your parents? They were in love, right?"

"Yeah," she said, a smile brushing her mouth. "They were."

Her face hardened. "And then she died."

"I never met my dad," he said after a moment.

She snorted. "We gonna swap sob stories, Ortiz?"

"You know, you get mean when you think someone's getting too close," he said, a mild rebuke that was mostly just an observation.

She swiveled her head to look at him without lifting it. "I guess that's been our problem all along: you get too fucking _close_."

"Yep," he said, bitterly, "my mistake. Ope and Jax warned me, but I'm an idiot—as you're so fond of pointing out."

She twisted toward him, her lips parted and her cheeks pink. "I never meant—"

"I know, Liv. It's okay."

"No it's not. Jesus, you must think I'm such a bitch."

He hitched a shoulder. "I think you're a lot of things. Confusing as fuck. Stubborn. Funny. Smart. Cool. Mean, sometimes. Generous, all the time. A little bit crazy. A lot self-destructive."

She blinked, nonplussed. He hadn't said _cute_ or _stacked_, and she wasn't sure what to make of that. "All of that in only two months?"

"I sort of think about you all the time, too," he admitted with a sheepish smile.

She tilted her head. "Like, _all_ the time, or just when you're not occupied with other things?"

"Um." His eyes darted away and he flushed. "You know. Often. Three or four times a week. Sometimes."

"Holy shit, Ortiz, get a fucking hobby! Don't you have a girlfriend to help you with that sort of thing?"

He scowled at her. "She _does, _but I still—I'm sorry, okay? You think I want…I got a good thing goin' with Dana. _Easy_, like I said. Then you come along and just fuck everything up. Cry on me and beg me to keep your secret and kiss me—"

"Your lips were equally involved in that kiss, Juice!"

"You don't want me close anymore, fine. You got it. You're not worth all this fucking _trouble_." He winced as soon as he said it. Fuckin' _A_, talk about foot in the mouth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"No." She sat up and forced a tight smile. "No, you're right. And even more than that, I never asked you to _take_ the trouble. I don't need your pity. Poor little Ollie Gable, the school slut who can't tell anyone how she almost got raped that one time. Fuck that, and fuck you."

The muscles in his jaw danced as his eyes darkened. "I never once pitied you, Olivia. I never would. But if that's how you wanna see it, fine." He shoved the door open. "I really gotta get to class."

She gave her cheek a furious swipe and wouldn't look at him.

"Maybe I'll see you around," he said. "If you're not too busy fucking half the school because you think you got somethin' to prove."

She rounded on him, mouth open, but he slammed the door and stormed away before she could say anything. She watched him cross the parking lot: his long, angry strides. The furious set of his shoulders. His fists were clenched and his head was bowed and she felt her heart sink to her stomach.

"Well," she murmured to the empty air, "I guess that takes care of that."

* * *

_Things are gonna get a bit worse between these two before they get better. :/_

_In other news, I knew I was in trouble with the Olivia/Ben storyline when I decided he looked like a young Michiel Huisman (Cal from _Orphan Black_ and this season's Daario Naharis from _Game of Thrones_)._

_Oh, and as for the _Harry Potter_ reference and Tara's reaction to it: remember that this is the 90s. The first two books were out (eh, depending on my mood), but it wasn't like now when you can't toss a cat without hitting like 10 HP references._

_I love hearing from you guys! Got quite a few follows/favs yesterday, so if you'd like to drop a word or two... :)_


	11. When We Fight

I'm very excited about all of our 90s movie marathon plans. :D We've gotta include _Jawbreaker_, too.

* * *

**now retreating from the light**  
**i love it when we fight**  
**it makes me think**  
**at least you still care**  
Better Than Ezra, "Live Again"

Olivia was at the kitchen table doing her homework when her dad came in. He seemed tired. And worried. She frowned and put down her pen. He lowered himself into a chair across from her and fixed her with a long, deep look.

"You seem like you've got somethin' on your mind," she said, trying to make light of it.

He sighed and rested his hands on the table. "Pumpkin, what's going on?"

She smiled a little. "I don't know what you're talking about, Daddy."

"I got a call from Ms. Tully today."

"Oh geez. Dad—"

He held up a hand. "Apparently you've been missing class? You didn't come in at all today, she said. Are you sick? And what's this I hear about Mr. Collins being fired? He had an affair with a student?"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I cut class today because I had a sort of—a fight with someone. It was really upsetting, and after everything that's been going on…I just wasn't up to facing it all."

"What's been going on, Ollie? I wish you would talk to me."

"It's not…" She trailed off and shook her head. "They fired Mr. Collins because someone started a rumor that he was having an affair. With _me_."

He blinked at her. "Olivia—"

"It's not true. He was always completely professional. I told them that, but they didn't care. They fired him before they even came to me about it."

His brow furrowed and he rubbed his forehead. "Mr. Collins aside, I can't imagine you doing something like that. You're too responsible for that kind of nonsense."

She dropped his eyes and fiddled with her pen. "It's been hard, because the whole school knows why they fired him. Everybody blames me for it."

"Hum." His frown deepened. "I don't understand, sweetheart. Why would someone get that idea if there was nothing to it?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Cleared her throat. After the confrontation with Juice today, she believed he hadn't been the one. That left her with only one other suspect. "I'm pretty sure it was TJ," she said.

"Because you broke up with him?"

She hitched a shoulder. "He's not the guy you break up with, Daddy. He's a catch. It's probably made him reevaluate his entire lifestyle." She said it as a joke, but it fell flat as her voice caught. "He also started a rumor, before break, that I—"

She literally couldn't get the words out. How could she possibly say something like that to her father? She flushed dark red and rubbed her palm against her jeans.

Finally she said, "That I did something extremely…ill-advised. With the football team. After the game that night I broke up with him."

He sat back in his chair, wide-eyed. "I'm guessing this ill-advised activity was of a sexual nature."

"Yep," she said with a grim nod.

"Who the hell does this kid think he is?"

"Son of the richest man in town. Old story, but no less true."

"Nobody believes that nonsense, Ollie."

"Well, they kind of do. I mean, not my friends. Like, Jax and Tara and Ope and everybody—but pretty much everyone else. My scarlet letter's an S for _slut_."

He gaped at her. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were going through…" He scrubbed a hand over his face. "You know, it's hard, being a single dad with a teenage daughter. I know there are things you don't tell me—plenty of things—and I understand why you were uncomfortable coming to me with this, but Olivia…I love you. You really can talk to me about anything, pumpkin. I would never judge you."

She ducked her head and bit her lip hard enough to hurt. "I just didn't want you to be disappointed in me."

"Disappointed in _you_? Baby, no. You didn't do anything wrong. I think I'll call Mr. Presbolowski tomorrow and have a chat with him. He needs to know what that little shit's been up to."

"Dad, please don't. It'll just make everything worse."

"Ollie—"

"I'm _begging_ you. Don't. Mr. Collins got fired so fast because of the Flanarys' influence with the school board. You really think Mr. Presbo's gonna do anything to TJ?"

"Pardon my language, but this is some fucked up bullshit."

She huffed out a laugh. "Pardon mine, but no fucking shit."

He smiled a moment before his expression sobered. "So what was this fight about? Someone say something rude?"

"Ahh…no. More the opposite. _I_ said something rude to someone else."

"That doesn't sound like you," he said with an ironic tilt to his mouth.

"Hush," she said. She flicked her fingers. "I accused the wrong person of going to Presbo about Mr. Collins. He was understandably angry, and things just got worse from there."

"_He_? _He_ who?" he said, frowning.

"Um. Juice Ortiz…?"

"Juice? You thought Juice—? Why would he do that?"

She grimaced. "He wouldn't. That's why I feel so crappy about it."

"Okay, fair enough. But why would you think it?"

"It's kind of complicated."

"Ollie," he said on an impatient sigh.

She squirmed. "We've sort of…I don't know. We kind of got off on the wrong foot early on, and it's been kinda weird ever since. We keep trying to make up and be friends, and somehow it always falls apart."

"Pumpkin, look at me."

She did, reluctantly.

"Does this have anything to do with…with the Christmas party? With my interest in Ana?"

"It's _Ana_ now?"

He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes.

"No, Dad. Juice and I have had issues since way before we had any idea you had a crush on his mom."

"I don't have a crush—"

She held up a hand. "I don't need details. Really. Look, if you like Ms. Ortiz that's fine. I don't have a problem with it, but I can't speak for Juice. To be honest, we don't talk much."

"I thought you were friends. Don't you work together at TM? He takes metal and auto shop too."

Her brows flicked upward. "You sure know a lot about him."

Now it was his turn to drop his chin. "Ana and I talk about our kids a lot," he said.

"Hhmm. All of that's true, but it doesn't mean we're buddies. He's fine, I guess, but he's sort of a pain in the butt."

"How so? Disrespectful?"

"Uh. Well, no, not really. Polite, actually."

"Okay. So…vulgar? Sexist? Racist?" He paused. "A Yankees fan? They _are_ from New York."

"Dad! Come on. No, nothing like that, though we haven't talked about baseball. He's fine. Just kind of a pain. Like—I don't know. He just. I can't—it's just like a _thing_. That he has. A _quality_, I guess."

He gave her the skeptical eye and tried to smother a smile. "A pain in the butt quality?"

"Yeah. The inherent ability to get on every nerve I've ever had."

Now he couldn't contain his amused smirk. "Right. I've been there."

"Oh my God," she said, disgusted, "don't look at me like that."

"Like what, pumpkin?" he said, blinking innocently.

"You know like what. That _I'm your dad and I'm so smart_ look."

"Well I _am_ your dad and I _am_ incredibly intelligent."

"Modest, too."

"Overrated." He tapped his finger against the back of her hand. "It's not like you to give up on someone. His mom's a real nice lady. I can't imagine her raising a jerk for a kid."

"I told you he's not a jerk. He gets along fine with everyone else. Just not me."

"So he's a pain in the ass, you don't get along with him or really like him—but you had a fight with him today that upset you so much you had to skip school?"

"I told you," she muttered. "It wasn't just that. That plus everything."

"Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you say."

"Dad, geez, give me a break."

"All right, all right. I'm sorry. Listen: can we agree no more cutting class? If you need a break I understand. You've been under a lot of pressure lately, and I know how important Mr. Collins was to you. But come talk to me, or maybe Ms. Tully."

He said that with a healthy dose of irony: he knew exactly how she felt about Ms. Tully and her overly enthusiastic efforts back in ninth grade.

"Maybe not Ms. Tully. But someone. Okay?"

She left the topic of Mr. Collins alone, but she managed a brief nod. "Yeah, Dad. No more skipping. I promise."

"That's my girl," he said and squeezed her arm. "I'll leave you to your homework."

"Dad?" she called as he stepped into the hall. He poked his head around the doorjamb again and she smiled. "Thanks. You're the best, you know that?"

"I am. Handsome, too."

She snorted. "Go away."

"Going. Do your homework!"

"Doing."

"Man, I got this parenting thing _down_."

"Go _away_!"

The sound of laughter floated from down the hall and she shook her head. Her smile died and she drummed her pencil against her math book. If he ever found out about her and Ben he'd flip. Like, truly lose his shit.

Charming was a small town. They were always careful: she walked to his place rather than drove. They were never seen out together. But someone was bound to figure it out eventually, and she had no doubt word would get back to her father.

She needed to end it. Soon.

Next week, maybe. He was going to his sister's in Portland this weekend, so maybe after he got back…

But soon for sure.

* * *

It was the Saturday after her big showdown with Juice, and Ben had been in Portland since Thursday. She was restless and bored. She toyed with the idea of trying to pick up a shift at TM, and just as she'd decided that she probably would, her phone rang.

She checked the caller ID and grinned. "Hey, Ope," she said. "What's up? You as bored as me?"

"Not really. I'm havin' a blast," he said with a laugh.

"Ohh. Well are you calling to rub it in, or invite me to come have a blast with you?"

"Jax and me are playin' some 007. Wanna come hang out?"

"I thought I wasn't allowed to play that anymore after what happened last time."

"Um." There was a pause while she heard him have a whispered conversation, probably with Jax. She grinned and grabbed her keys.

"Come on over," he said. "I talked him into it."

"Tell him to quit bein' a baby and maybe I'll take it easy on him this time."

"Be nice, Ollie. Don't make him cry again."

She could hear Jax' outraged squawking though the phone, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She laughed. "Be there in ten. Need me to bring anything?"

"Jax says Funyuns."

"Gross."

"Just bring the damn Funyuns, Gable."

"Aye aye, captain. Make it fifteen." She hung up and ran a brush through her hair. She debated putting it up, but she decided it wasn't worth the effort. Her jeans had a hole in the knee and her shirt—an old favorite—had somehow become just a little too small since last summer. She rolled her eyes and threw a flannel shirt over it, tugged on her Doc Martens, and was out the door.

One quick stop at 7-11 later and she pulled up in front of Opie's house and cut the engine. Piney's bike wasn't in the driveway, but Jax' and Opie's were. Juice's wasn't, which was a relief. She scooped up the plastic bags and hurried to the porch.

Opie answered at her knock and she threw a bag at him. "Get these nasty things away from me," she said.

"You're a peach, Ollie," he said with a grin. He dug in and let out a whoop. "Fuckin' Sno-Balls, too."

"Who loves ya, baby?" she said.

"You bring me anything?" Jax said, scowling.

"Not a fuckin' thing, Teller."

She tossed him the other bag and he laughed as he pulled out another thing of Funyuns and three Snickers bars. "Fuck yeah," he said.

"One of those is for Tara, so don't get greedy. Where is she anyway?"

"Said she had to finish homework," Opie said around a mouthful of junk food.

"It's Saturday."

Jax shrugged. "That's what I said. I guess she wanted to get it done early."

"So it's gonna be just the three of us? No one else to witness your humiliation?" she said and plopped down on the couch next to Jax.

"Tara's gonna be by after the homework. Juice's at TM, and Donna's parents won't let her come over here anymore," Opie said.

"Mmm," she said, a quiet noise of commiseration. "That sucks, bud."

"Can't believe we actually tracked you down today," Jax said. He cut his eyes at her and she hitched a shoulder.

"I've been busy."

"Busy, or hiding?" said Opie.

"Hiding from what?"

"Dunno, Ollie. You tell us."

She glanced back and forth between the two of them. "Is this an intervention?"

"Ha," said Jax.

"Maybe a little," Opie said at the same time.

"Guys, I'm not on drugs."

"You're on somethin'," Jax said.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say _really good sex_ just to see their reaction, but she resisted the urge. Instead she made a face and picked up the controller. "Could we just play, please? I'm not abusing any illegal substances. Or legal ones, for that matter. I'm fine."

"So, what," Opie said as he sat down on her other side, "you're skippin' school for shits and giggles? We can't find you because you're writin' sad poetry and listenin' to fucking Alanis Morissette and Hole in your room all day?"

"Okay, first of all, there's nothing wrong with either Alanis Morissette _or_ Hole. Secondly, you two don't have any room to talk about skipping school. You guys split the crown last year for Kings of Not Showing Up. Remember?"

"Yeah," Jax said, drawing the syllable out. "But we didn't also hold the title of Blowjob Queen."

Her mouth fell open. "You're fucking with me right now. That's not a real thing."

Opie frowned and pulled something out of his book bag that leaned against the arm of the sofa. He handed it to her and they watched her face transform. She turned red. Then white. Then red again. Her mouth tightened before it curved into a bemused smile.

"And here I thought I'd never amount to anything. I'm a fuckin' _queen_, bitches!"

She wadded the pamphlet up and tossed it toward the trashcan in the corner. It missed and she shrugged. "Not a queen of basketball, obviously. No wonder I chose the football team."

"Olivia—"

"Don't," she said and shook her head. "There's no point. They're gonna say what they're gonna say, and there's nothing I can do about it. It's fucked up, but whatever."

"Mr. Collins got fired because of shit like this," Jax said.

"You think I don't know that? They fired him before they even talked to me. It was a snow job, and fucking bullshit." She shook her head. "Luckily he's kind of okay with it, I guess. He asked me not to start a petition or write to the school board or anything."

Opie frowned. "When'd you talk to Mr. Collins?"

"Uh…I went by his house the day they told me. I thought I should apologize. Let him know I didn't start anything."

"Ollie, you know if you want us to beat TJ Flanary's face in we'd be more than happy to," Jax said.

"That won't help anything. The next rumor he starts could be—well. Honestly at this point I'm not sure how much worse it could get for me, but I don't want him to go after you guys."

"I'd like to see him try," Opie said.

"Let's just drop it, okay? I'm handling it. I already talked to my dad and told him I wouldn't skip anymore. I haven't this week, have I?"

"Not since Tuesday," Jax admitted.

"You guys keep way too close track of me," she said.

"You're our friend, Ollie," Opie said, his voice quiet. "It's what we do."

She threw her arms over their shoulders. "My knights in darkened armor," she said.

"Dark Knights, like fuckin' Batman," Jax said.

"Does that make one of you Robin?"

They shared a look. "I could handle bein' Nightwing," Opie said.

"That means I get Wayne Manor," said Jax.

"And Alfred," Olivia said.

Jax glowered. "Think I could get Alfred to do my fuckin' math homework?"

"I'll help you with it if you want. Or you could ask Ortiz. He's in Algebra III with me."

"Eh," Jax said. "You smell better."

"I'm flattered, Jackson. It's so refreshing to receive a compliment from someone who's _not_ looking for a blowjob."

"Jax's always lookin' for a blowjob," Opie said. "Just not from you."

"Exactly," she said with a wry twist to her mouth.

"I really wanna stomp Flanary's head in," Jax said through gritted teeth.

"Get in line," she said. "Okay. Intervention over?" She waved the controller at Jax. "You owe me a rematch."

He flipped through the menus to get the game going. "I still say you cheated last time," he said.

"Yup. You got me. I replaced my hands with robot hands that know every secret to Goldeneye. You didn't stand a chance."

"I was distracted," he grumbled.

"By me? _My_ boobs? Then that's what you get for looking at boobs that aren't attached to your girlfriend."

Opie hooted and she elbowed him. "Same goes for you, Winston. Eyes front."

"I've seen your boobs," he said with a shrug. "Not that great."

"Lies. My boobs are amazing."

"We need to stop talking about Ollie's boobs now," Jax said.

"Works for me," she said. "I've been objectified enough in the past month to last me a lifetime, thanks."

Opie and Jax glanced at each other over her head. She tried to act cool, but they'd both known her long enough to tell how disturbed she was by everything that'd been going on. If she didn't want to talk about it, though, they weren't gonna force her. This whole thing had been Tara's idea anyway, and Jax could've told her it wouldn't work. Olivia was stubborn, and the line she'd taken on it all was _no big deal_. He had no idea what it'd take to make her change her mind.

* * *

"Best two out of three?" she said later.

Jax threw down the controller with a curse. "I swear to fuckin' God. You play this game like once every three months. You're some sorta gaming prodigy."

"It's the hair," she said. "Gingers are soulless. Like robots. I'm basically a robot."

"Explains a lot," Opie said.

"Your turn, Winston?" She dangled the controller by its cord and he grabbed for it.

"Why not? Got nothin' to lose but my pride."

She took Jax' controller and pulled up a new game. There was the sound of a motorcycle engine outside and she frowned toward the window. "Piney?" she said.

"Nah," said Opie. "Probably Juice. Dad's out doin' club shit all day."

"Oh. Damn. I just remembered—shit." She tossed the controller at Jax and scrambled to her feet.

"What the fuck, Ollie?" Opie said. "Thought we were gonna play."

"Yeah, sorry. I forgot my dad wanted to hang out today."

"He won't get home till midnight," Jax said.

"Normally, yeah, but he switched with someone for first shift so we could go to the movies. He'll be way disappointed if I bail on him."

The door behind her opened and Tara and Juice walked in. Olivia's shoulders sagged a little. Looked like no clean getaway today.

"Look who I found lurkin' around outside," Tara said. "I had to drag him in."

Olivia's eyes met Juice's and his slid away.

"Hey, bitch," Tara said and hugged her. If she noticed the tension between Olivia and Juice she didn't react to it.

"Hey, babe," she replied and kissed her cheek.

Opie and Jax hooted and clapped. Opie whistled through his fingers.

"Fuck yeah girl on girl!" Jax yelled.

It wasn't a new reaction, and Tara and Olivia had learned long ago to ignore them.

"I was just on my way out," Olivia said.

"What? I just got here!"

"Sorry, I know. I told my dad we'd go to the movies, and I forgot."

"Your dad," Juice said, "or your _daddy_?"

Her mouth fell open. Color washed her face and she darted a glance at Jax and Opie. "Ew," she said. "What even?"

"Just a question," he said with a shrug.

Jax had stood up to greet Tara, and now he gave Juice a look. "What the fuck, dude?" he said.

"Oh," he said. "Wow, I guess she didn't tell you."

She shifted from one foot to the other. Her brow furrowed and she started to reach for him before she changed her mind and let her hand fall to her side. "Juice—"

"Ooo, Snickers!" Tara said, her voice overly-bright. "Is one of those for me?"

"Tell us what?" Opie said. "What's up, Ollie?"

"Nothing," she said, trying to laugh it off. "I think Juice's been listening a little too hard to all the gossip around school, that's all."

"One rumor in particular," he said.

"Juice, come on," Tara said. "We all know it's bullshit. What's the point of even bringing it up?"

He and Olivia watched each other across the room. She looked tense and ready to run. He seemed relaxed, but she could tell it was feigned. He was furious. Looking for a fight. Fuck it. She'd oblige him. She shook her hair back and narrowed her eyes.

"Why don't you just say what you mean, Ortiz," she said, softly.

He laughed and ran a hand over his head. "I guess she forgot to tell you guys she's fuckin' Mr. Collins. I mean, while you were all so busy bein' such good buddies and all. But everybody's gotta have their secrets, right?"

Her mouth went hard and the blood drained out of her face to leave it stark white. Tara grabbed her arm, but she shook her off.

"Get off it, man," Jax said. "That's just somethin' TJ made up because he knew Collins was into Ollie's art and shit."

"Her art isn't all he's into," Juice said.

"Ollie, come on," Tara said and tugged her hand. "Let's just go. We can have lunch or something. I'm starving."

She surged toward Juice despite Tara's efforts to hold her back. "No, Tara, I think it's important that everyone know the truth, since Ortiz is so fuckin' eager for them to hear it." She spun away and flung out her arms. "I'm fucking Mr. Collins. I have been for the last three weeks. Now everybody knows it. You feel better?" she said to Juice. "And since you're so goddamn _curious_, he's in Portland this weekend visiting his sister."

"Huh," he said. "Guess that's why you were actually free for once."

She spun on him again. "You think you're real fucking cute, don't you? You get some sort of thrill out of making me feel like shit about my life and my choices? You've got no right to judge me. You don't even _know_ me. You think you give me a ride home and let me have a cry on your shoulder and suddenly we're bosom buddies. Sorry, but it doesn't work like that. So fuck you, Ortiz. Fuck you and your judgmental bullshit."

His jaw worked and his eyes were hot as he leaned down so that they were almost nose to nose. "Sure, Liv," he said. "Let me just take a number."

She slapped him across the face hard enough to turn his head and leave a crimson palm print across his cheek.

"Whoa, okay, that's enough," Jax said. He picked her up by the waist and lifted her away from Juice. "Maybe you should leave, Ortiz," he said, his rough voice hard.

"No," Olivia said. She shoved away from him. "No, that's fine. I was already on my way out."

The door slammed behind her, and Tara whipped toward Juice with a furious glare. "Well done," she said. "Well _fucking _done." She ran after Olivia with a disgusted look that somehow included all three of them.

"Okay, what the fuck?" Opie said. "That was out of line, dude. Not cool at all."

"Yeah," Juice said in a low voice. "That was messed up." He rubbed his cheek with a grimace. "She shoulda hit me harder."

"You're goddamn lucky she didn't," Jax said. "And you're lucky I don't take a swing, too. You got any idea of the shit that girl's goin' through right now? She don't need an asshole like you makin' it worse!"

"Except you aren't actually an asshole," Opie said. "So you wanna explain what that was about?"

He shrugged a shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Fuck if I know. We got in this fight the other day and we both said some shit and she's just a real pain in the ass."

"She's like that with everybody," Opie said. He sounded weary. "She's Ollie. Bein' a pain in the ass has been her hobby since like first grade."

"She's real good at it," Juice said.

Jax shook his head. "You fucked up, man. We told you."

"Told me what?" he said and made a face.

"Look, with her you got two modes: pissed or about to get pissed. Since her mom died you just can't.… She'll talk to Tara and it's all good, but everybody else is better off kinda steerin' clear," Jax said.

"About important shit," said Opie. "She's fine if you're just hangin' out or whatever. She's, ya know, like a pal. Don't try to think of her like a girl. Otherwise you'll get your head all mixed up and she ends up slappin' you."

"And for _fuck's_ sake don't let her fuckin' cry on you," Jax said. "That's like buyin' a one-way ticket to Ollie's shit list."

"I don't get it," he said to Opie. "If she's such a pain, why the hell did you go out with her?"

He let out a sigh. Scowled down at his boots and kicked a Funyun under the couch. "She's kinda…" He trailed off and waved his hand in an annoyed gesture. "I just thought…I just figured why not? Maybe I'd get lucky and she'd…relax a little or whatever. And, I mean, I think she will. Eventually."

He snorted. "Seems like a lot of work to me."

"Fuck yeah," Jax said, "but you think Tara's a walk in the park? You gotta decide what's worth it and what ain't. Ollie'll be worth it to somebody someday, but in the meantime she's gotta deal with little shits like TJ Flanary."

"And I guess Mr. C what the _fuck_?" Opie said.

Juice winced. "I guess everybody deals with bein' declared Blowjob Queen in their own way."

"Just lay off her, man," Jax said. "Back off and let her be. She's gettin' enough shit these days without gettin' it from her friends, too."

"I should tell her I'm sorry."

"Bad idea," Opie said. "At least for a while. Give her time to cool off first."

"He's right. You go after her now you got no chance."

"She'll fuck you up, man. And I don't mean she'll kick your ass."

"Okay, so, what?"

Opie and Jax looked at each other. Jax shrugged. "Play some Goldeneye. Eat some Funyuns. Wait for her to come to you."

"Only chance you got," Opie said.

Juice slumped onto the couch and stuffed a Funyun into his mouth. "So you're sayin' I'm fucked."

"Yup," Opie said.

"Can't get much more fucked," said Jax.

"Next time we tell you to stay away from a girl, just do it."

"Yeah," he said on a frustrated breath. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

_Like I said...worse before it gets better. They both just need to get over it._

_I'm about 1k words into ch16, so feel free to drop a line with your thoughts/opinions/whatever. Next chapter is a little...intense._


	12. Everything to Everyone

I'm really ashamed of Juice's behavior in the last two chapters, and as a result he's in time out for this one. He needs to think about what he's done.

* * *

**you do what you do **  
**you say what you say**  
**you try to be everything to everyone **  
**you jump through the big hoops**  
**you play all the right games**  
**you try to be everything to everyone**  
Everclear, "Everything to Everyone"

Olivia and Ben lay twined together in his bed, both shirtless but still in their jeans, and she giggled as he tickled her ribs. It had been a week since the Portland trip, and he'd noticed an odd sadness in her, like something had changed while he was gone. That's why he'd put off telling her…but he had to. She'd be pissed if he waited any longer, and now that he had some definite news he knew it was time.

He took a deep breath and kissed her just above her belly button. "I've got some news."

"If it has anything to do with food I don't want to hear it," she said with a little groan. He'd grilled steaks and corn on the cob, and she was so stuffed she could barely move. It's why they were being so lazy now.

He patted her food belly and grinned. "Not about food, I promise."

"Okay," she said. "Hit me."

He ran a thumb over her nipple. She wiggled. "I told you I went to Portland to visit my sister."

She cut her eyes toward him at his wary tone. "Uh huh."

"That was true, but it wasn't the only reason."

"Uh huh…?" she said again.

He sighed. "My ex-girlfriend from college works at this big gallery up there, and she got me a job interview."

"Oh!" she said at _interview_, then "Ohh…" as _ex-girlfriend_ registered.

"Nothing happened. We had lunch before the interview and then I saw her again briefly after. It was no big deal."

"You're an adult, Ben. If you wanted to hook up with your ex I'm not going to judge you for it." She paused. "I wish you'd told me _before_ we had sex again, though. I don't usually do the multiple partners thing. But, I mean. Condoms."

"I didn't hook up with her, Olivia," he said and made a face. "You really don't care?"

She turned toward him and brushed his hair off his forehead. "Of course I care. But it's not like we're a couple. No one ever said this was exclusive."

"Yeah," he said. "Right, yeah."

His tone and his expression worried her. She drew in a deep breath and changed the subject. "So since I know there aren't any raunchy sex stories, tell me how the interview went."

It surprised him into a laugh. "It went really well, actually." He hesitated. "They offered me a job."

"Holy shit! That's awesome! Would you be curating or…?"

"Acquiring."

"Even cooler. That's like your dream job, isn't it?"

"Yeah, sort of. I mean, in a bigger place than a local gallery in Portland, Oregon—but it's a start."

She kissed him hard. "That's so awesome, babe. When do you start?"

"Um." He was a little taken aback by her enthusiasm. "Um. Next Monday."

Her eyes widened. "Next…? But that's like a week."

"Yeah. I guess I'm leaving…Saturday…?"

"Oh." She fell back. She had no idea how she felt about this. She was happy for him, genuinely thrilled, but…so soon? "Wow," she said.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I—"

"No, it's okay. Kinda glad you waited, really."

He waited her out as a mix of emotions passed over her face. Finally he said, "You okay?"

"Working on it."

"Portland's not _that_ far. And there's the phone and email and shit like that."

Her mouth curved. "We do have fun on the phone," she said.

He laughed. "What can I say? I love hearing you come."

"Me too," she said with a distracted smile. She turned toward him again and ran a hand down his chest. "You know…this is probably a good thing. I mean, above and beyond your career, which is obviously great. But I mean a good thing for you and me."

"Oh? How so?"

"It's a chance for a clean break. We both know we're just spending time. You're twenty-six and I'm seventeen and still in high school. There's nothing _here_ for us. I'd rather you just go and it be over than things linger on. And if you were still in Charming…it'd be a lot harder. A _lot_."

His brows drew together and he looked away. "So you're saying no phone or email or shit like that."

She lifted her fingers in a shrug. "As much as I love our phone conversations and your incredibly sexy emails, yeah. That's what I'm saying."

"Ah," he said. "No, you're right. A clean break is better."

"Right. You'll have a new job in a new city. It'll be chance for you to start over. Meet someone your age who you can maybe have a future with."

He traced a pattern on her upper arm. "And you can find someone _your_ age and have a normal relationship for once."

Her nose scrunched. "That shit's overrated."

"Says the girl who's never been in love."

"Ugh. Don't start."

"Sorry, sorry," he said with a laugh. He pulled her in for a long kiss, and when it broke her grin was mischievous.

"Five days, you say?"

"Yup."

Her hand drifted to the button on his jeans. "We better get started."

"God I love the way you think," he said as he rolled over on top of her.

* * *

On the fifth day when she knocked on his door he opened it and hauled her inside without a word. Spun her around and pushed her against it and before she could even take a breath his hands were all over her. His mouth was on the back of her neck, and he barely skimmed her taut nipples before he unzipped her jeans and shoved them down around her knees.

She pressed into him eagerly, and when his fingers brushed her slit he found her slick and dripping.

"You get started without me, baby?" he murmured.

"Maybe. A little. I couldn't wait."

"I can't either," he said and sucked on her earlobe. He rucked her t-shirt up above her breasts and massaged them through her bra. She moaned as he wasted no time and went straight for her clit, swirling around it again and again before he dipped into her and circled it again.

"Yes! More!" she gasped. "Please, more!"

He pressed his thumb against the sensitive nub and thrust his fingers inside. She rocked her hips on his hand; he massaged her G-spot; and before either of them knew it she was coming, crying out his name and writhing as he pumped her.

He bit her shoulder and pulled away. She let out a whimper, but he soothed her with a soft kiss. She heard the grate of zipper and rustle of fabric, then the rip of a condom wrapper. Soon the tip of his cock was nudging her entrance, and when she whispered a sharp _yes_ he shoved into her hard enough to make them both cry out.

He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand while the other plunged between her legs to play with her clit. He wasn't gentle. She begged for more. His voice was a hot rasp in her ear as he breathed: "So fucking sweet, baby, goddamn could fuck you all day. Gonna miss your hot wet cunt so much. Gonna miss fuckin' you till you scream and eatin' your sweet pussy for hours."

The dirtier he got the louder she moaned, and he got downright filthy. She freed a hand and tangled her fingers in his hair, hauling him closer and craning her neck to cut off his litany with a searing kiss.

"Yes fuck, Ben, that's so good! Harder!"

"Fuck, baby," he groaned. "Can't—!"

He bit the side of her neck and sucked, and that sent her over the edge. She came again, a mind-numbing explosion, and the feel of her clenching around him was too much. His own orgasm crashed through him, and he held her upright as they came together. It seemed to last forever, shudder after shudder and spasm after spasm, and when they finally came down from it they were trembling and winded.

He licked sweat off her neck and stumbled away to get rid of the condom. When he got back she'd managed to turn around, but she still slumped against the door. Her face was stunned, her mouth swollen, and he grinned when he saw her.

"Still with me?" he said, though he sounded pretty dazed himself.

She gave a drunken nod and he laughed. "Come on," he said. He pulled her jeans up, and when she tried to take a step she grabbed his arm.

"I think you broke my legs," she said.

He swooped her up and carried her to the bedroom. "Good thing you're small," he said as he set her down. "I'm not exactly the Brawny man."

"Perfect just like you are," she murmured with a smile.

He stripped off her clothes piece by piece, lingering over every inch of skin he exposed with soft kisses and teasing licks. She'd thought herself spent and wrung out, but by the time they were both naked in his bed she was wet and aching. She guided his hand between her legs, and he fingered her to a sweet, easy peak as they kissed and whispered.

As her last shudders faded she saw he was hard again. She rolled on a condom, straddled his hips, and…

It went on like that for hours. They barely spoke beyond murmured words of encouragement and sharp moans of lust. Finally, exhausted and utterly sated, they fell against each other in a tangled, sweating heap, and before she realized it she had fallen asleep in the circle of his arms.

* * *

She could swear she heard birds. That wasn't possible. It was the middle of the night—or at least the middle of the very early morning. She opened her eyes and they flew wide. It was light outside. Gray and weak, but light. Saturday morning. It was Saturday morning what the fuck had happened to Friday night?

"Holy shit. Oh goddamn." She looked at the clock and almost screamed. "Fuck fuck fuck I'm so fucked!"

Ben roused at the sound of her distress, and his face was fuzzy and sleep-dazed. "Ollie, wha…?"

"It's almost seven! If I don't get home before my dad wakes up I'm dead. Grounded till I'm eighty and bye-bye Cougar and _fuck_!"

She pushed herself out of bed, but she was stiff and sore, and she fell back with a hiss. It had been a _long_ night.

"Whoa, hang on." He sat up slowly. "Jesus Christ, I _feel_ eighty."

"With you there, sugar," she said on a laugh. She tried again, and this time she made it far enough to dig up her panties.

"Ollie, wait. Come on. It's Saturday. Doesn't he sleep in on Saturdays?"

She frowned and searched for her bra. "Yeah, usually. Till eleven or so."

"Okay, then we have some time. At least take a shower before you go. It'll help."

She glanced up at him and her mouth curved. "A shower, huh?"

"And some breakfast. If push comes to shove, tell him you were at Tara's last night. Say you fell asleep and didn't want her to have to drive you home so late."

"Hhmm." She crawled toward him and rested her arms on his shoulders. He gripped her waist and pulled her onto his lap. "You're an awfully bad influence, Mr. Collins."

"Don't call me that," he said as he kissed her neck.

"Call you what? Mr. Collins?" He bit her and she giggled. "Ooo, Mr. Collins, that's nice," she said in a breathy coo.

"Olivia!"

It wasn't a game they ever played, ever: she wasn't into the whole schoolgirl thing, and he still wasn't quite over the fact that he was fucking a former student. But after last night she felt like nothing was off the table, and despite his protests she could feel him hard and hot against her thigh.

"Fuck me, Mr. Collins," she whispered in his ear, low and wicked. "I want your big hard cock in me, Mr. Collins. I've been a bad, bad girl, and I—"

"You. Stop it." But he was laughing as he said it, laughing and half-moaning, and when she slid off his lap he groaned in protest.

"You promised me a shower," she said over her shoulder as she sauntered away.

"I certainly did," he said and chased after her.

Later they sat across his kitchen table from each other, neither saying much. He'd made omelets, but they didn't really feel like eating and the food grew cold on their plates. She pushed egg around with her fork and he pretended to drink his tea.

Finally, "Ollie—"

"Don't, Ben."

"Don't what?"

"Say whatever it is you're about to say." She stood up and came around the table. Leaned down to take his face in her hands and kiss him long and slow. "It's been a crazy month, baby. Let's not fuck it up now by saying things we regret."

He leaned back with an amused snort. "You're an amazing woman, Olivia Gable."

"True. Glad to see you realize it." She grinned and brushed her mouth over his again. Straightened and held out a hand. "Come on, handsome. Walk me to the door and kiss me goodbye."

He stopped her as she reached for the knob and tugged her back. She smiled up at him and they kissed until the heat started to build again.

"Mmm," she said, a regretful murmur, "I have to go."

"I know." He ran a hand through her coppery hair. "Gonna miss you, Ollie."

"I'll miss you too." She looked away. "What time are you leaving?"

"Just have to throw a few more things in my bag and I'll be gone."

Good. She wouldn't have a chance to come back. She'd walk out the door and he'd get in that U-Haul and it'd be done. Clean break.

"I'll email you my number as soon as I know it."

She frowned. He sighed.

"Olivia, gimme a break, okay? It's just a phone number. You don't ever have to use it. I want you to have it in case you need it. You can call me anytime, for anything. You need a place to crash or a sounding board or you've got a flat tire. Anything."

Her mouth curved. "Ten hours is a long drive to change a tire."

"I drive fast."

"In that piece of shit?"

It was an old joke between them, but he didn't laugh this time. Neither did she. Her face went still and their eyes met. She swallowed.

"Fuck," he breathed. "Olivia, I—"

"I know," she said, desperate to shut him up.

"Goddammit, why won't you let me say it?"

"Because I can't say it back and it's not fair."

"Can't, or won't?" he ground out.

"Both. I was clear from day one, Ben. Don't look at me like I just kicked your dog."

He let out a hard sigh and pulled her against him. "You're gonna change your mind about all that one day, Ollie. Then you'll feel like someone kicked _your_ dog."

"Sounds wonderful," she said, dryly.

"You'll be fine. You always land on your feet."

The way he said it caused a funny twinge in her stomach, because she wasn't sure he meant it as a good thing. She pulled away. "I should go." She brushed his hair off his forehead and grinned. "Take Portland by storm, Ben Collins. I see big things for you in Rose City."

"I always did like roses." He knew she didn't, and he said it just to see the look on her face. He kissed the tip of her scrunched nose. "Get out of Charming, Ollie. Don't let this place suck you in. Don't get involved with one of those bikers you hang around with and get stuck here. You've got too much potential to waste in this place."

"Don't worry, kid. I've got a ticket on the next train outta town."

"Nah, babe, that's me."

"Oh yeah. I knew it was one of us." She opened the door before she could change her mind. "Take care of yourself, Benjamin. Who knows? Maybe we'll run into each other somewhere down the road."

"Maybe so," he said.

She smiled, kissed him, and walked away. Just like that. She didn't look back, and he watched her until she rounded the corner at the end of the block. He shut the door with a sad little frown and thought, much to his deep and profound regret, that he'd never see her again.

* * *

Tara kissed Jax' chest and grinned at him. "So. Not bad, right?"

Tara's dad was off God-only-knew-where, and they'd had the house to themselves the whole night. She was taking fullest advantage of it. They were in her bed, and apparently she'd just blown his mind.

"Holy. Shit." He sounded stunned, and his blue eyes were wide and amazed.

She giggled. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Where did you learn—? Okay, never mind. I don't want to know. Just tell me you aren't fuckin' a teacher, too."

"Jax, come on," she said with a frown. "Don't give her shit about it."

He shrugged. "I'm not. Have I given her shit? The only one doin' that is Juice."

Tara rolled her eyes and flipped onto her back. "I don't know what's gotten into him. She acts like she doesn't give a damn, but he really hurt her feelings last week."

"Ope and me told him to steer clear. He shoulda listened. Now he's fucked. There're some girls, man. They just get under your skin."

"Hhmm." She flashed a wicked grin and straddled his hips. Leaned down to kiss him long and slow. "Am I under your skin, Teller?"

"You know it, baby. You're in so deep I ain't never gettin' you out."

She laughed. "Now there's an idea."

Their kisses turned hotter. His hands were everywhere and she moaned at the feel of him between her legs. He rolled over so that he was above her, and just as his mouth found her breast the doorbell rang.

"Jesus fuck," he said. "Who the hell?"

It went again, three more times in hard succession, and Tara sat up in alarm. "Shit," she said. She jumped out of bed and tugged on shorts and a t-shirt. Tossed him his pants.

"Get dressed."

"What's goin' on?" he said, confused and frustrated.

"It's Ollie," she said.

"What the fuck is Ollie doin' here this early?"

"Jax!" she said. "Today was the day! Portland day."

"Oh." His brow furrowed. "Oh shit."

She made an impatient gesture and left him there to figure out his clothes. When she opened the front door Olivia fell inside, and Tara caught her. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she was breathing hard.

"Did you _run_ here?" Tara said.

"Car's at home," she gasped.

"Ollie, Jesus, come on." She dragged her to the sofa and sat down with her. "Try to breathe, babe. Come on. You can do it."

"I'm so stupid, Tara, so fucking stupid. What was I thinking?"

"That he'd be a great lay?" she said with a shrug.

Olivia glared at her a second, but then it dissolved into a helpless laugh. "What a fucking mess."

"Olivia—look, I know it's not really your scene, and I know what your answer's gonna be, but maybe think about it for a second and be honest. Did you fall for him?"

Her forehead creased and Tara could tell she was weighing it. Finally, after long, intense consideration, she shook her head. "No. Not like that. He's fantastic, and I really like him—but, I mean, if after last night I can't say it, then no. It's just not _there_ for me."

"How does he feel?" Tara said, quietly.

"Not the same as me."

"Guess it's good he's going to Portland, then."

"Yeah. Way good." She buried her face in her hands, but her eyes were dry now, her tears all spent. "Is there something wrong with me, Tara?" she said, her voice muffled. "Something _missing_? I know he's nine years older and it's incredibly inappropriate, but you'd think if I were ever gonna fall in love, it'd be with him. We had an amazing time, all the time. We didn't fight. We didn't piss each other off. It was just _fun_. _Easy_!"

"Sounds boring as fuck to me," Jax said from the doorway.

Olivia's eyes went huge, and she shot Tara a panicked look.

"I told you to stay in the bedroom," she said.

"No you didn't. You told me to get dressed, which I did."

He'd put on pants that hung low on his hips, but he hadn't bothered with a shirt, and Olivia had to take a minute to appreciate the view. He was her friend, and she wasn't interested in him like that, but she had _eyes_.

She made a face at him once she'd looked her fill. "Isn't that what it's supposed to be like? Good times and hot sex?"

"Well yeah," he said with a shrug. He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. "But it can't be like that _all_ the time. You gotta butt heads every now and then. Otherwise what's the point?"

"He's right," Tara said. She shrugged at Olivia's expression. "We argue about things we care about, right? So if you never argue about _anything_, either you're lying, or you don't give a fuck."

"Or both," said Jax.

"Or both," Tara echoed in agreement. "I mean, it was only a little over a month, and from the sound of things it was mostly sex—but you can't have sex all the time, Ollie. Eventually you have to have a conversation."

"We did—"

"I know you did. But enough to really understand each other? To really see? He thinks he's in love with you, but come on. He's nine years older. Are you sure he isn't just in love with an idea? The pretty redhead who seduced him with her wicked ways and her abstract sculptures."

Her mouth twisted as she considered. It made sense. She liked him, but she felt like there was a wall between them. She didn't know if he'd built it or she had, but with it there there was no way she could really know him. And how can you love somebody you don't know?

"You're a pain in the ass, Ollie," Jax said. "I love you, but it's fuckin' true. There's no way in hell you're gonna be happy with some dude who agrees with everything you say and never fights with you. That's like the anti-Ollie."

"God you make me sound dysfunctional as fuck."

"Nah," Tara said with a grin. "Just passionate. About, like…everything."

"You gotta have somebody who's a challenge. Ope's awesome, but he ain't that. TJ was just a dick. And Mr. Collins was…shit, I don't know. I don't pretend to understand how any of you think," he said with a vague gesture in their direction.

"A great lay," Tara said.

"He certainly was that," Olivia agreed, wistfully.

"I don't need to know that," Jax said.

"Then butt out, Teller! Nobody asked you anyway!" she said, but there was no heat in it, and he burst out with a low, rolling laugh.

"See? That's you, Ollie. Pain in the ass till the day you die."

She grimaced. "Maybe I just need to mellow out a little."

"No way," Tara said. "You just gotta find somebody who smoothes out your rough bits. That's how it works: you don't _complete_ each other like fuckin' Jerry Maguire, you just…fit."

Her gaze darted between Tara and Jax. That was as good an explanation as she'd heard for why they stayed together despite how stormy things sometimes got between them. They _did_ fit, and as well as any two people she'd ever seen. You could see it even when they fought. It was part of how she'd known things weren't going to ever work out with Opie, as much as she adored him.

There was really only one person who fit their description, and she currently wasn't speaking to him. She also had literally zero interest in ever going out with him or even trying to work things out. He'd made himself perfectly clear, and she was too exhausted to bother trying again. Besides, she was only seventeen. She'd barely been outside Northern California. There were plenty of people out there, and any one of them would be a better pick than—

Hell, she wasn't sure why his name had even crossed her mind.

Tara and Jax exchanged a look. Jax lifted a brow and Tara gave a tiny shrug. He scowled and shook his head. She glared at him. He pulled a face. Finally he threw his hands up and stomped out, and she watched him go with a grin.

She loved it when he was so cooperative.

"Come on," she said to Olivia. "Let me take you home. We'll tell your dad you crashed here last night." She eyed her. "I'm assuming you didn't make it home, considering that's what you had on last time I saw you."

"Like I said. If I can't say it after last night, it ain't gonna happen."

Tara nodded and helped her up. She'd gone stiff again after her run, and they paced back and forth across the living room a bit, Tara supporting her when she faltered. "You gotta be more careful, Ollie. You know you're supposed to take it easy on that leg, not run halfway across town after a night of marathon sex."

"Jesus Christ," Jax muttered. He'd chosen the wrong time to reappear.

"Nobody's talkin' to you, Jackson," Olivia said.

"Good goddamn thing, because that's the last image I need in my head."

"Go take a shower, babe. We'll be back soon." She paused and their eyes met. Her brows raised in a question, and he gave a quick nod. She smiled and blew him a kiss.

Tara knew her best friend well enough to know she would never, ever approach Juice again after what happened last week. She was fed up and pissed off, not to mention genuinely hurt by what he'd said. Juice was looking for an excuse to apologize, and now Jax had hopefully given him one.

Obviously it would take some time for Olivia to get Mr. C out of her system, but once she did Tara hoped she'd _finally_ be able to see what'd been right under her nose since the day he'd come to Charming: Juice Ortiz was perfect for her, and it was only her own stubbornness that kept her from seeing it.

* * *

_Well that takes care of Mr. C. Now let's see if these two wacky kids can quit being so damn stubborn and admit how they feel._

_lol yeah right are you new here?_

_Um, if you are new hi! Welcome!_

_I just finished ch16, and I sort of. I mean, I know basically what's going to happen, but not really...ugh. Anyway, I'm a lil frustrated and could use some kind words. :)_


	13. The Best Thing

Juice is now out of time out because he promised he would follow the golden rule from now on. Let's see how he does, yeah?

Thanks so much for the reviews, guys. :) They always make my day.

* * *

**pale winter sun**  
**is beatin' the ground**  
**why'm i throwin' away**  
**the best thing that i've found?**  
**my young heart's in tatters and i'm sure**  
**that it will be a long time healing**  
**it's so hard to see what i'm doing this for**  
**when loneliness is all that i'm feeling**  
David Gray, "Gathering Dust"

Jax and Opie had told him to wait for Olivia to come to him, but it'd been two weeks and he'd gotten nothing from her. She ignored him in class. Didn't look at him when they passed in the hall. Was cordial but cold at work, and her icy politeness could cut glass.

So when Jax had called him Saturday and told him to forget what they'd said before and give it a shot, he was kinda shocked. He didn't know what had changed, and when he asked Jax had mumbled something about Mr. C and Portland, then he'd hung up the phone.

Juice was left confused and disconcerted. He would feel better if he apologized, but he wasn't sure she wanted to hear it. It was Tuesday, shop day, and ever since their fight in her car—three weeks ago today—he'd been avoiding the shop during his free period.

He thought maybe he'd been a coward long enough. He'd been a genuine shit to her, maybe as rude as he'd ever been to anyone in his life, and he owed her a fucking apology. If she wanted to chew him up and spit him out that was her prerogative. He deserved it.

He took a deep breath and pushed through the shop door. For a minute he didn't see her; she wasn't at the welding torch. Then she appeared from around a corner, and when she saw him she went still.

"Oh," she said. "Wasn't sure you had the balls to show your face around here anymore."

His brow creased. "You think we could talk?"

"We could try. You think you can have an entire conversation with me without throwing out a cheap insult?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it again and looked away. "I guess that's fair."

"Dammit," she muttered. She really couldn't deal if he was going to be nice. She jerked her head toward the break room. "Not out here."

He followed her and she locked the door behind them. She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. "Let's hear it."

He faltered at the fury in her eyes. Maybe Jax and Opie had been right the first time and he should've waited for her. Except he had a feeling she never would've come to him, and there was some weird, masochistic part of him that knew he'd regret it if he didn't at least try to make things right.

He cleared his throat and dove in. "I got no excuse for what I said, either in the car or at Opie's. It was fucked up, and I know it hurt your feelings."

"My _feelings_?" She made a face. "Get over yourself, Ortiz. You've got absolutely zero effect on my goddamn feelings."

"Would you just stop?" he said. "You don't gotta play tough, Olivia. You don't have to treat me like you do everybody else."

Her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer. "What makes you so special?"

He ducked his head. "Nothing. I mean—I just mean—I didn't mean what I said, Liv. I don't—I'm not judging you for the thing with Mr. C."

She swallowed and looked away. "You did a pretty good impression of it."

"I know. All I can say is I'm sorry. And I _am_ sorry, Olivia."

"I just don't get why. You were so nice to me that night you drove me home, and then at Christmas—" She cut herself off. "But then suddenly you turn into fucking über-jerk. Did you have some sort of personality transplant?"

He gave a restless shrug. "I don't know. When you told me about Mr. C it's like…my brain just shut down. I couldn't think straight, and I…I guess I just said the first stupid, mean thing that came into my head."

"Yeah, it's kind of disconcerting when your illusions about a girl's sacred purity are so brutally shattered."

"Liv, come on. I don't care about that shit. If there was a rumor a guy had fucked the entire girls' soccer team he'd be a stud, but if it's about a girl and the football team she's a slut. That's bullshit. I told you I don't care who you have sex with, and I meant it."

"So what am I supposed to do, Ortiz? Fall all over myself praising you because you're a decent human being? This's all real lowest common denominator stuff here."

"For fuck's sake, Olivia! What the hell does a person have to do to get a break with you? I'm _sorry_. I was an asshole. If fucking Mr. C made you happy, then more power to you." He paused. Closed the gap between them and glared down at her. "Except I don't think it did make you happy. I think it made you more miserable than you were before."

"Fuck you. You don't know me."

"So you keep saying. But the truth is I know way more than you think. I know how scared you are, Olivia. I know that letting anyone close terrifies the fuck outta you, and that's why you chose Mr. Collins for your weird-ass rebellion. He was safe because it was such a monumentally stupid decision."

"What happened to not judging me? I see that lasted all of thirty seconds," she said, but her voice shook and he knew he'd hit a nerve.

"I'm _not_. I'm telling you I _understand_," he said through gritted teeth.

"Do you?" she murmured. Her eyes traced his face. "You understand what it's like to be branded the school slut and have everybody talk about you _all_ the time? You get how it is when every guy sees you as a target? When they think they can say literally any dirty, disgusting thought that pops into their porn-addled heads? It's open season on Olivia Gable at SanWa South, because she's so easy she's givin' it away. Come one, come all, and don't forget to grab her ass or her tits while you're here."

He scowled. "Of course I don't. Not exactly. But I know what it's like to be afraid. To put on a front and make everybody think you're cool when you actually kinda want to…I don't know. Just get on your bike and keep drivin' till you run outta gas and never look the fuck back."

"We're in high school, Juice. Literally everyone in this building feels that way."

"Olivia." He dropped his backpack on the floor at his feet. "I don't want to grab your ass or your tits."

"That's probably a good thing. I don't think Dana wants you grabbing my ass or my tits, either."

"I broke up with Dana."

She lifted a brow. "Did you? I hadn't heard."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. She was relieved by the space it created between them, but she tried not to show it.

"Turns out she's the one who went to Presbo about you and Mr. Collins."

Olivia's jaw fell open. "You're kidding."

"Nope. After you told me what she said to you that day, I got to thinkin' about it. I asked her, and she admitted it. She said she told TJ, mostly as a joke, that you and Mr. C had a thing, and TJ flipped out. I guess he convinced her it'd be funny if she told Presbo."

"She really didn't think she was setting him up to get fired?"

"I don't know, man," he said with a shrug. "She probably did, but whatever. Doesn't matter anyway. I didn't realize she was that petty. And, besides, I don't really have any interest in someone who thinks TJ Flanary's anything but pond scum."

There was a quiet moment while she studied him. "I shouldn't have accused you of that."

"I'd never—" He broke off and snorted out a laugh. "Sounds stupid, I guess, considering I told everybody about you and Mr. C, but I'd never rat you out.

Her face twisted. "You did, though. You told everybody. I don't care if the school thinks that because they don't matter, and while I get sick of all the whispers and the snide comments it's just noise. But Opie and Jax?" She raised her hands, palms up and fingers spread. "It's not that I'm ashamed; not exactly; it's just…"

"Private. I get it."

She pressed her forehead against the heel of her hand. "You _vex_ me, Ortiz. You have since the beginning. I want you out of my head. I want to stop thinking about that fucking kiss. I want to stop caring what you think about me."

"Huh," he said. "If you figure out how, let me know. I'm havin' the same problems with you."

She gripped his jacket with both hands, whether to pull him closer or push him away she wasn't sure. Dropped her chin so that her forehead rested against his chest. She stood like that for a long time, and he wondered if she could feel how hard his heart thudded against his ribs.

"So what the fuck do we do?" she said at last.

"Damn if I know," he said. He raised a tentative hand to touch her hair. He let out a short laugh. "Maybe we should just have sex and see if that gets it out of our system."

She pulled back with a frown.

"I was kidding," he said.

"I get that." She tilted her head in a shrug. "It's not a bad idea, though."

"Olivia, I was kidding."

"Right," she said. Her mouth twisted in a bitter moue. "Wouldn't wanna be caught fucking the Blowjob Queen. Except, you know, in your case it'd probably only enhance your reputation: three months, three girls. That Juice Ortiz sure does work fast."

He had to laugh at the irony of it. "I was a virgin when I came here."

She blinked. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he said with a sheepish smile. "And I wasn't in juvie, either. I was a geek in Queens. Like, got beat up almost every day. I figured when I came out here I could start over."

"Sounds nice."

"Yep. Except I guess I kinda forgot that while, yeah, I was a loser, at least I wasn't a total dick. Old me never woulda said those things to you, and I don't really like that new me is someone who would."

"A loser, huh?" she said, quietly.

"Totally."

She pressed her lips to the corner of his jaw, and when she spoke again her tone was inscrutable. "I don't know, Ortiz. You might be a lot of things, but somehow _loser_ isn't what comes to mind."

She smiled a little, spun away, and stopped at the door on her way out. "You see _that_ Juice Ortiz around, have him gimme a call. I think I might like to meet him."

The door shut with a muffled thump and he gaped after her. Did that—did that mean she'd forgiven him? Or not? Should he try to talk to her next time he saw her, or let her come to him? He sagged against the table and shook his head.

He felt more confused and clueless than when he'd started, and that was pretty fuckin' impressive. He'd never in his life met someone who mixed him up like she did, and he didn't understand why he liked it so much. Shouldn't he be pissed? Shouldn't he be getting fed up with trying to figure her out?

Maybe. Probably. But somehow he doubted he'd get bored of the puzzle that was Olivia Gable for a long, long time.

* * *

There'd been a recent uptick in business at Teller-Morrow, and all the new customers were high school kids. Not just SanWa South, but North, too. Everyone had noticed, but no one more so than Olivia.

They were here to see her. Like she was an exhibit at the zoo.

She clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth and smiled her sweetest, most dangerous smile through all the catcalls and comments. When one of the guys was around it wasn't as bad: no one really wanted to tangle with anyone from SAMCRO, so one quelling glare from Tig or Chibs and they shut right up; but when it was just her it got downright messy. Gemma had sent her home Saturday when she'd almost punched a senior from SanWa North, but (to her credit) she also made him leave _and_ pay for the labor they'd already done on his car.

Now it was the following Wednesday, two weeks since Juice's attempt at an apology, and she missed Ben more than she ever thought she would. It had been nice to escape to his place, away from school and everything to do with it. The sex was great, obviously, and she could really use a few stress-relieving orgasms—but she missed more than that. She missed talking to him. These days she kept to herself a lot, avoiding even her friends, because honestly she just wasn't up to the effort of faking it.

She'd never had to fake it with Ben, in any situation.

Tara was worried about her, she knew, but she'd been dodging her calls and avoiding logging online. She just felt _tired_. Too tired to talk about how tired she was.

It had been a long afternoon, but finally it was closing time. Bobby had been helping her, but she'd sent him on. She needed some quiet, and very little soothed her as much as setting the garage to rights. Everything in its place. Every surface gleaming. It wasn't an easy thing to accomplish in a garage, but she took personal pride in it.

She was reorganizing one of the tool chests when a noise startled her into dropping the wrench she held. She spun around, brandishing a different one she'd grabbed from the drawer, and stopped short when she saw Juice.

"Holy shit!" he said. "You gonna brain me with that thing?"

"The thought crossed my mind," she said. She put it on the table and rolled her eyes. "You scared the shit outta me. Where'd you come from?"

"The office," he said with a gesture over his shoulder and a weird look. "Gemma sent me in here to see if you needed help."

"Oh." She tossed her braid behind her and frowned a little. "I'm good. Thanks, though."

"You dropped something."

She glanced down with a scowl. Knelt to retrieve it at the same time he did, and as they both reached for it his hand closed over hers. They froze. Neither of them looked away from their linked hands, and after a moment she let out an awkward laugh.

"If you wanted to hold my hand, Ortiz, you just had to ask."

"I was afraid you'd hit me with a wrench."

Her mouth quirked. Their eyes flicked up and locked. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth to bite on it a little. He flinched.

"Don't do that," he said.

"Do what?" she said, genuinely confused.

"Your lip. When you—it makes me—"

"Makes you…?"

"Wish I were the one sucking on it," he said in a rush.

She chuckled, grabbed the wrench, and straightened. "I'm not responsible for your inability to control your libido, Ortiz."

He sat back on his ass and draped his arms over his bent knees. "That's not exactly what I meant."

"No?" she said. She stashed the tools and lowered herself to sit opposite him. The concrete floor was hard and cold, but she didn't like what it did to _her_ libido to look down on him like that. "So what did you mean?"

"You know how much you frustrate me, right?"

"Is that my fault? I never asked you to be interested enough to _be_ frustrated."

He snorted. "You sure as fuck didn't."

Her nose scrunched and she looked away. "I told you before…the other week…I told you how you mix me up. So I guess I kind of know how you feel."

"You also said I didn't have any effect on your feelings."

"Yeah, well, sometimes I lie."

"Me too," he said, quietly.

She tilted her chin toward him and he shrugged.

"I fucked up, Liv. I know I did. You got all this shit, all these people treatin' you bad, and then I—" He lifted his hands. "I think about you every day. Things I could say or do to make it up, and there's just nothin'."

She crossed her legs and shifted her weight a little. "There's nothing _to_ do, Juice. I mean—you can't make it up. It doesn't work like that."

"Huh," he said. "So we're just gonna ignore each other forever?"

"I hope not," she said, her mouth moving in a little smile. Her brow creased and she reached over to poke his knee. "If you want to make things better between us, then stop trying so hard to fix it."

"I don't understand."

"Just relax, Ortiz. Treat me—treat me like you would anybody else. Just normal."

He dipped his head. "I don't think about you like I do anybody else."

"Good," she said.

"What? You just said—"

She held up a hand to cut him off and leaned closer. "Treat me normal, Ortiz. Treat me normal and want me at the same time. Treat me normal and then go home and jerk off to every nasty little thought you've ever had about me. _Pine_ after me, Juice—and treat me like you don't."

His eyes got wider and wider as she spoke, and by the time she was done they took up half his face. "You _want_ me to—to…want you?" he said in a choking voice.

"Of course I do. Not because I'm mean or narcissistic, but because…do I really have to say?"

He gave a short, wordless nod.

"I want _you_, Juice. Okay? But I can't…I can't do anything about it. Not right now. Not when every guy I meet looks at me like he's seen me naked. If you can want me and still treat me like a human being, then maybe we could figure something out."

"I never meant—"

"I know you didn't. You aren't gross like—" She broke off and waved a hand. "I'm a person, you know? I have interests and passions and opinions, and quite a few of them have absolutely nothing to do with sex."

"I know that," he said with a glower.

"Name three non-sexual things I'm into. Try to be specific."

He glared at her and held up his fist. "One," he said and lifted a finger, "classic muscle cars. Your favorite is the Cougar, but you're also a big fan of the Mustang—because, duh, they're basically the same thing on the inside—and you've got a soft spot for T-birds that you'd probably never admit."

Her brow quirked. "Okay," she said. "That's one."

"Two! You hate horror movies. You don't read scary books, either, and last summer Tara dared you to read _The Shining_ and it gave you nightmares for a week. You've hated topiaries ever since, but other than that you love flowers and plants and shit. Except roses. You hate roses. I'm pretty sure tulips are your favorite flower, but that could be wrong."

"No," she said, surprised in spite of herself. "No, you're right. And three?"

"You love art, which is sort of obvious, but your favorite artist is some sculptor who does shit with glass. Cthulu or something. You also really like Chagall and Frida Kahlo, and you want to go to art school but you're afraid to apply because you think your stuff isn't good enough, and I know I know fuck-all about it, but I think it's really good. Better than that glass shit, though I guess the glass is kinda prettier, with all the colors and everything."

She ducked her head to hide a grin. "Chihuly," she said. "Not _Cthulu_. That's the multi-limbed monster from the stygian deeps created by H.P. Lovecraft."

"I knew it was one of those," he said. He sounded sulky, but she could tell he was trying not to smile.

She gave in and laughed, a quiet ripple of delight and pleasure that made him sit up straighter. "How do you know what Chihuly's work looks like?"

"I looked it up."

Her head tilted. "Why?"

"Because you're into it, Liv. Like, really crazy into it. Your eyes get all big and your voice goes kinda breathy and high and you use your hands a lot when you talk about it. I figured if it gets you that excited I should check it out."

"I literally have no idea how to respond to that."

He sighed and crossed his own legs so that he could scoot closer to her. "I know this is a weird idea, Olivia, but I like you for more than just—the way you look. I don't _just_ think about what kinda underwear you've got on."

She cast him a look from under her lashes. "White cotton. Bikini cut. Nothing fancy."

He drew in a breath. "I bet they look, um…I bet they look real cute, though."

"Don't start, Ortiz."

"Sorry."

"Here's something for you to mull over. You know that Third Eye Blind song?"

"Uh. There are a couple."

"The one about meth. And there's that line about _those little red panties that pass the test_?"

He blinked at her. "What—what about it?"

"I wear red panties on test days. Because of that song."

"We have algebra together, Liv. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate next time we have a test when I'm armed with that information?"

"I don't know, Juicy. I guess you'll just have to deal with it. Like how I deal with knowing you jerk off to me three or four times a week."

He blushed and looked away. "I'm sorry. I guess that kinda grosses you out."

"Not really."

"No…?" he said, giving her a hesitant glance.

"It's not like I could stop you anyway, and I'm not going to try to make you feel ashamed. Besides, when it's you it's kinda…I mean, it's okay. Anyone else it would be weird."

"Why me?"

Her finger tapped against his knee. Traced a pattern over the fabric of his pants. He thought maybe she didn't notice she was doing it, and he didn't want to stop her.

"We have a lot of issues, Ortiz."

"One or two," he said with half a grin.

"You were really mean to me, and it did hurt my feelings, but I haven't always been very nice to you."

He cleared his throat. "Doesn't matter. I shouldn't've said that shit."

"So why did you?" she said, her voice soft.

"I don't know." He shook his head. "Fuck, that's bullshit. I said it because I was jealous."

"Jealous? Of…of _Ben_? You were with Dana."

"It didn't have anything to do with you having sex with him—I mean, not very much to do with it—but it drove me nuts that I wanted so bad to make you feel better and I couldn't. I was there that night and I kept thinkin' maybe if I'd done somethin' different…I'd be the one."

She ran her tongue over her lower lip as she thought it over. "It wouldn't ever have been you. Wait," she said before he could speak. "Not because—not because of _you_, but because—it had to be someone outside. Someone I wouldn't see at school every day. Someone I could separate from all that bullshit, even if it was just in my head. It _never_ would've happened if he hadn't gotten fired, and not just because of how inappropriate that would've been."

His face twisted. "That's all it was? Psychic geography?"

She laughed. "I like that. _Psychic geography_. Yeah, that's basically what it was. Not entirely. There were—other things. I mean, he's a really hot guy."

Juice snorted and she grinned. Her hand had fallen still, and now it rested on his knee. She flipped it palm up and he tangled his fingers with hers.

"Would you be pissed if I said I'm really glad he moved to Portland?"

"Nah," she said. "I'm kind of glad too." She paused and her expression clouded. "How do you know all that stuff about me?"

"I pay attention, Liv. We're in class together and I spend my free period in the shop and we work together and have the same friends. I know you work real hard to ignore me, and I get why, but I still notice you. I still listen when you talk."

Color brushed her cheeks. "You do?"

"Come on. Gimme a little credit. Look, the other night I had a dream about you, and there was zero sex. You dragged me to some art museum in San Francisco and showed me all the Cthulu and I actually really liked it."

"_Chihuly_!" she said, laughing.

"I think I'm gonna call him _Cthulu_ from now on."

"You're nowhere near as cute as you think you are, Ortiz," she said.

"Sure I am. You think I'm cute."

"That's beside the point."

"I don't think so."

"A lot of guys are cute," she said.

"Yeah, well, so are a lot of girls—so explain to me why _you're_ the one I think about all the time."

"I don't pretend to understand the mysteries of human attraction."

There was a pause. His fingers toyed with hers and a smile touched his mouth. He looked up to meet her eyes. "Would it freak you out if I kissed you?"

"What, right now?"

"No, next Tuesday, say one o'clock?" He grinned. "Yeah, Liv. Right now."

They were sitting knee-to-knee, cross-legged. All they needed was a cake between them. "I did always want my _Sixteen Candles_ moment."

"I always wanted that dude's car."

"Ugh. A red Porsche? You can do better."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

They had both tilted closer, and now they were nearly touching. He rubbed his nose against hers. She turned her head and their lips met, almost by accident. Her fingers tightened on his and she made a low noise of surprise. He started to pull away, but she grabbed his t-shirt with her other hand and the kiss deepened.

Their mouths came together again and again: soft, feather-light brushes; long, heated caresses; brief, barely-there touches. Her grip on his shirt eased and they leaned back with shy, embarrassed smiles.

"As good as you imagined?" he said. His eyes widened when he realized how that sounded. "I mean—when you watched the movie. Your _Sixteen Candles_ moment."

"Better," she said. "Because it was real and not just me sitting on my kitchen table kissing thin air."

He dissolved into a laugh. "You did that?"

"Shut up. That movie had a huge impact on younger me."

"That's so fuckin' cute."

"I hate you right now."

"Liar."

"Maybe _hate_ is a strong word."

"Can I kiss you again?"

She tilted her head back and forth in consideration. "Yeah, okay. But only because of the _Sixteen Candles_ thing."

"I never thought any different."

"Sure you didn't, Ortiz," she said, a low murmur before his mouth captured hers, and they both forgot to care about anything else.

* * *

_Okay, things're lookin' better. Nice of Juicy to apologize for being such a raging bonehead._

_How did we get to ch13 already? I've only written up through 18. :/ I also still don't know what's going to happen next, bc rather than writing new stuff last night, I went back and added the second section here to this chapter, and another scene to ch15. Welp. Let's see what I can make happen today. :)_


	14. Maybe

Not entirely sure what that _Rent_ quote's doing here. I just can't get it out of my head from the moment I mention the moon.

I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. :) I'm enjoying writing it way more than I thought I would, tbh.

* * *

**maybe it's not the moon at all  
****i hear spike lee's shootin' down the street**

**bah humbug  
bah humbug  
**_Rent_, "Light My Candle"**  
**

Olivia thought things had maybe started to quiet down. The last half of February had been uneventful so far. People seemed to've finally grown bored with the Olivia Gable Saga, especially since there hadn't been anything new in almost two months. She was so openly disdainful of anyone's advances that no one believed it when anyone bragged about fucking her, and at this point her reputation in general was so tainted it would be a dubious honor at best anyway.

It had become easier to ignore, too. Eventually your skin thickened and it stopped hurting so much. She had Ben to thank for that, at least a little: he'd shown her how desirable she could be to the right person, and how she deserved to be treated with care. Like she was someone special, not just another notch on the bedpost. She knew she would never settle again, and if it had taken a "weird-ass rebellion" (to quote Juice) to teach her that, then so be it.

As February drew to a close they decided to have a sort-of birthday party for Opie, and she and Tara told Donna's parents they were going to a youth group get together at Olivia's dad's church. They'd loved it, and Opie was thrilled he finally got to spend some time with his girlfriend without looking over his shoulder every five seconds.

If Olivia and Juice were annoyed by the fact that, by default, they were always stuck together when the six of them hung out, they both tried not to show it. That night, the night of Opie's birthday, they'd all gone to the park. Opie and Donna had disappeared one way while Tara and Jax disappeared the other, and Olivia and Juice were left alone by the swing sets.

The stood facing each other, neither sure what to say. It wasn't the first time they'd been abandoned by their paired-off friends, but normally they weren't anywhere quite so _private_. It was one thing if they were at a club, because then they could always pretend to be interested in someone around them…but here it was just the two of them.

It was a cool night, and the moon was big in the sky. The nearest streetlamp was out, and everything around them was bathed in a sort of watery silver glow. The sand beneath the swings looked pearlescent, and the water oaks nearby cast strong gray shadows.

The silence had stretched on too long, and she knew one of them had to break it before it became truly weird. She cleared her throat and he glanced up at her.

"Alone at last," she said with a shrug.

"Yup," he said. He slid his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and studied his boots.

They'd been trying to keep things copacetic since the weird conversation in the break room, but mostly they'd just avoided each other—excepting that encounter in the garage, of course, but that seemed to be a one-off. He had no idea what to say to her, and she felt awkward and self-conscious around him. He knew way too many of her secrets, and she knew too many of his. It wasn't how she liked things to go. She'd known the others since they were kids, so of course they knew things about each other…but this was completely different.

She looked around, desperate for something to distract them from each other. "Oh! You wanna swing?"

"Swing?" he said.

She tilted her head toward the swing set. "Yeah, brainiac. Swing."

"Umm…yeah, I guess. That'd be cool."

They wandered that way and Olivia squeezed into one of the swings. He went around behind her and she cast a look over her shoulder. "Er, whatcha doin' back there, chief?"

He paused with his hands on the chains above her head. "I was gonna push you. Isn't that…isn't that what you do on the swings?"

She ducked her head to hide a grin. Wow. He really was a total dork, and it was strangely endearing. "Sure, Ortiz. You can push me."

She lifted her feet out of the sand and he gave the swing a nudge.

"You know," she said after a few quiet moments as she went higher, "I'm glad you've stopped trying so hard."

"Trying so hard at what?" he said with a frown.

She shot him a smile. "Being cool."

He made a face. "Not sure that's really a compliment, Olivia."

She closed her hand over his as he grabbed the chain, and she jerked to a stop so fast she started to fall. He reached to catch her, but he was off balance from the sudden stop, too, and as his hands closed around her waist they both tumbled to the ground in a sandy, laughing heap.

"Oops," she said. "Ow."

"Shit, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just. Your elbow—?"

"Fuck, sorry." He pulled it out of her stomach and shifted his weight and realized all in a rush that he was half on top of her. She didn't seem to mind, though—now that he wasn't elbowing her in the belly—so he stayed where he was.

"I guess I should've thought that one through a little more clearly," she said.

"Yeah. Physics. What a bitch."

"Shut up, Ortiz," she said with a snort of laughter.

"Sorry." He brushed a tangle of hair away from her face. It was dark in the moonlight and it smelled, as it always did, like mint. The familiar scent made him ache.

"You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"Nah," she said, grinning a little. "You cushioned my fall nicely."

"Glad I could help."

They both went quiet as their eyes met. Her cheeks were flushed, her green eyes bright and sparkling with laughter. His gaze drifted down to her mouth, full and soft and painted cranberry red. She wiggled a little. He pushed himself up, afraid he might be hurting her or that maybe she just didn't like him laying on her.

"Sorry," he said for the third time. "I should—"

"Stay," she murmured.

He blinked.

"You should stay." She touched his face, her fingers cool against his heated skin, and he dipped his head to brush his mouth over hers.

He'd done it without thinking, almost by instinct, and when she smiled at him he did it again, lingering a little longer this time.

He pulled away to frown down at her. "This is a really bad idea, isn't it?"

"Yep," she said.

"You want to stop?"

"Nope."

"Thank God," he whispered and kissed her again.

She thrust her fingers into his short hair to pull him closer. He moved so that he was more firmly on top of her, and his thigh slipped between her legs. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth. Ran his tongue over it.

She made a soft noise as her lips parted to invite him deeper. Their tongues moved together in a smooth, silken glide. He couldn't hold back a moan. He had gone rock-hard almost the second he felt her nails against his scalp, and he knew she had to feel it on her thigh. She tasted incredible, sweeter than he remembered, and he felt almost as drunk as he had the first time.

Heat coiled low in her belly as he left her mouth to kiss along her jaw. He captured her earlobe between his lips and she hissed. The spark was there, all right, bright and shimmering and, she realized, waiting between them on a quiet, banked simmer for a moment just like this one. It roared to life and it was like Christmas all over again, only ten times better because this time his hands _did_ roam, and the feel of them stroking her sides through her shirt was so delicious she could hardly stand it.

"Taste so good, Livvie," he rasped into her neck. "Could kiss you forever."

Their lips met again. He hesitated with his hand on her ribs, just below her breast, and when he lifted his head in a question she nodded.

"S'good, Juicy," she said. "Don't stop."

He muttered a curse and trailed his knuckles along the underside. It was gentle; sweet, even; and when his thumb found her nipple it was already pebbled into a sensitive peak. He pinched it, just a little, and she bit back a gasp.

He moved his palm back down, to the hem of her shirt, and at her encouraging nod he slid it underneath to caress her silky skin. He had just made it back to her breast (the lacy feel of her bra blanked his mind for a second as he tried to imagine what it looked like) when they heard the car.

It slowed to a stop and a flashlight swept across the swings.

"Shit," he said.

Her eyes widened as she recognized the silhouette of a Charming PD cruiser. "Time to go," she said. "If I get arrested for public indecency my dad will kill me."

He scrambled to his feet and helped her up. The flashlight's beam hit him square in the face and the cop yelled something out the window. Maybe something about trespassing, but neither of them stayed long enough to figure it out. Her hand gripped his and they ran.

The Cougar was in a lot about a quarter of a mile away, and they didn't stop until they reached it. She laughed and fell against him, flushed-face and breathless, and he grinned down at her, that same face-transforming smile she'd first seen at Christmas.

Just like that night it made her stomach flip over, and even as she panted she pulled him to her by his collar and kissed him again. He cupped her face in his hands and tangled his fingers in the wind-blown hair around her temples.

"You're crazy," he murmured against her mouth.

"Only when I'm with you," she said. "You make me nuts, Ortiz. Spin me around and mix me up and make me forget—"

"To be so fucking scared."

"You a shrink now?" she said, but in a teasing sort of way.

"Nah," he said. "I just know you."

"You've been here three months. We've spent more time fighting or not speaking than we have actually being civil to each other."

He curled a lock of her hair around his finger. "Sometimes it doesn't take long."

She rested her forehead against his chest and took a deep breath. When she looked at him again her face had changed and he knew the moment was broken. Had he said the wrong thing again, or was this just Olivia being Olivia?

"It's getting late," she said. "I've got—I've got curfew." It was a school night, so that meant eleven. It had been almost ten by the time they got to the park.

He smiled and took a reluctant step back. "Okay, Liv," he said. He cast a glance over his shoulder. "What about everybody else?"

"I'm sure they're just fine wherever they are." She hesitated. Reached up to rub her lipstick off his mouth with her thumb. "Juice, do you think—"

He fought the urge to close his eyes and moan. _Focus_, he told himself. If he fucked this up now he might not get another shot. "We could keep this between us?" he said into her sudden silence.

"I'm sorry. It's not you. I'm just really tired of everybody knowing my business."

"I know. I get it. I wasn't gonna tell anyone anyway."

"I know you weren't. I just like to make sure everyone's on the same page."

He nodded and raised her chin for one more kiss, closed-mouthed and chaste. "See you in algebra tomorrow?" he said.

"Yeah, Juicy," she said. "Goodnight." She unlocked the car and slid into the seat. Shut the door and cranked down the window. "You should know," she said without looking at him, "I like you a lot. It's just—it's been so fuckin' weird. I don't even know…" She trailed off and gave a frustrated shake of her head.

"You don't have to explain, Olivia. I understand."

She cut her eyes his way. "I don't want you to think I'm a tease. After the other week in the garage, and now this…" She trailed off with a frown.

"I don't think that. We kissed, Liv. I wasn't expecting sex under the swings."

"Or in my car?"

He laughed. "I didn't think you allowed sex in your car."

Her mouth moved in a grin. "As a general rule, no."

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned closer. "I like you too, in case you hadn't figured it out already."

"It's always nice to hear."

"Yeah," he said, his own smile illuminating his face, "it really is."

She started the engine and he took a step backwards. "Night, Juicy."

"Night, Liv. Maybe IM me so I know you got home okay?"

She blinked at him, her brow creased and her jaw hanging open a little.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"Nothing," she replied, too quickly. "Yeah. For sure. See you tomorrow." She put the car in gear and drove off before he could say anything else. Anything else completely disarming and utterly incongruous to everything she might've expected out of him.

She was still warm and tingly and half swimmy-headed from his kisses and the feel of his hands and the press of his erection against her thigh…and then he had to go and be _considerate_. Ugh. She really, really hated him sometimes.

* * *

A few days later Olivia and Tara were in Olivia's bedroom studying for their English Lit test. Olivia had made color-coded flashcards, and Tara was flipping through them with an amazed look on her face.

"How the hell do you have time for stuff like this?"

Olivia lifted a brow. "You'd have time, too, if you weren't down Jax's pants all the time."

"True. But what kind of disciple would I be to the Church of Life's Too Short for Bad Sex if I didn't spread the Word?"

"Preach, sister."

"You're always so productive when you're not getting laid," Tara said as she stacked the cards and set them on the desk.

"Lots of leftover energy. Gotta spend it somewhere, and there's only so often I can wash my car."

"Or your hair."

"So who's first? Shelley or Byron?"

Tara made a face. "It's so ridiculous that we study _Percy_ Shelley when his wife invented an entire genre of fiction as part of a fuckin' bet."

"Didn't you hear? _Frankenstein_ is trash, and inappropriate for young minds."

"Fuck that. They just don't want us to know women are good for anything besides popping out babies and doing their laundry."

"Preach, sister," Olivia said with a twist of her mouth.

Tara grinned at her and fished her book out of her backpack. "I guess Shelley, in honor of his wife, Mary, whose contribution to the pantheon of modern literature is sadly overlooked because her reproductive organs were on the inside."

Olivia swiped the stack of cards off the desk and flipped to the blue ones. She shuffled through them, but then stopped and let them fall from her fingers. "Can I talk to you about something without you giving me shit about it?"

Tara twisted around in the chair to look at her. Olivia sat on the bed with her legs crossed. Her head was bowed, and her coppery hair fell around her face so that Tara couldn't see her expression. Worry creased Tara's brow. Olivia hadn't been herself lately—really since Mr. Collins moved to Portland. Had she cared about him more than she'd let on?

"No shit giving," she said. "I promise. What's up?"

She gathered the cards and started sorting them back into their colored groupings. "It's about…it's about Juice Ortiz."

As if there were another Juice they could be talking about. Orange, maybe, but Tara seriously didn't think citrus would have Olivia quite so nervous. "Did something happen? Something bad? Because you seem kinda…" She trailed off with a helpless sort of shrug.

"No, nothing bad. At least I don't think so. I guess that's kinda what I want to talk about."

"Okay. Are you gonna tell me, or make me guess?"

Olivia let out an impatient sigh. "It happened the other night at Opie's party. When we went to the park and you guys bailed on us?"

"We didn't _bail_, exactly, we just—"

She held up a hand. "It's fine; you don't have to explain. We're pretty used to it by now."

Tara fidgeted a little. "I guess it's kinda shitty. You two get stuck together all the time and you don't even like each other that much."

"Well, I mean, he could start bringing a date. I know he broke up with Dana, but at this point there are plenty of girls who would go out with him."

Olivia hadn't really been kidding when she'd made that comment about his reputation: Asia was considered easy (a few steps below Olivia on the slut ladder, but not much), but Dana was Somebody. TJ Flanary's ninth grade girlfriend, Homecoming Court every year, in the strong running for junior Prom Queen according to school scuttlebutt. And Juice Ortiz had broken up with _her_, not vice versa, and he wasn't saying why. It made him a mystery, and high school loves a good conundrum.

"What happened between the two of them anyway?" Tara said. "He seemed sort of into her."

He _really_ wasn't saying why.

"Ah…I guess she's the one who went to Presbo about Mr. Collins and me? At TJ's urging, apparently."

"Wait." Tara waved her hand like she hadn't heard quite right. "Juice broke up with Dana Riley—Dana _Riley_, considered, like, the hottest girl at SanWa South—because she ratted you out to Mr. Presbolowski?"

"I don't think _the_ hottest," Olivia said and scrunched her nose.

"One of the hottest."

"Whatever. Beside the point. He said he didn't want to go out with someone who had anything to say to TJ. He, um. He really hates him."

"Everyone with two brain cells to rub together really hates him. Seems like Juice has a special grudge, though."

Olivia divided the index cards into even, color-coded piles as she spoke. "He picked me up the night I broke up with TJ, like I told you before. TJ left me on the side of the road, and if Juice hadn't happened to drive by, it was like a two mile walk to that Shell station outside of town. And I'd left my purse in TJ's car so I didn't have a quarter for the phone anyway."

Tara narrowed her eyes. "Why do I get a feeling there's something you aren't telling me about that night?"

"Best friend instinct, I guess. Yeah, I'm not telling you everything, but—it's not really something I want to talk about."

She let out a long sigh. She was doing well to get this much out of Olivia. She wasn't exactly the sharing type, even with Tara. And Tara knew her better than anyone. "Yeah, okay. But if you change your mind—"

Olivia smiled. "I know where to find you."

"Yup." She tapped her pencil against the desk. "You wanted to talk about Juice, though. What happened at the park?"

She ducked her head and blushed. "We sort—made out. I mean, not sort of. We did. And it was—it was crazy."

"Did you look like you'd been mauled?"

Olivia threw her pen cap at her. "It wasn't like at Christmas. There were hands involved, for one. And tongues."

"Ohhh-kay. That's a few steps beyond the mistletoe."

"Not sure what would've happened, but a cop car pulled up and we had to scatter. I mean, we were by the swings in the park. Out in the open. It's not like we would've had sex or anything."

Tara cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. "Let me get this straight. You and Juice made out—like, _really_ made out, not just a couple of kisses—in the park, and now you're…what? Freaking out about it?"

"Yes, a little!"

"Olivia, come on. You made out with a hot guy. That's like Olivia Gable one-oh-one."

"I don't make out with that many people."

"I know you don't, but when you do you usually don't freak out about it."

"You think Juice is hot?"

"Ollie!"

"What? It's a serious question."

Tara exhaled on an exasperated huff. "He's pretty hot. He's got nice arms. And a great smile."

Olivia turned her head and tried to smother a grin. "His smile's not bad," she said, her lips twitching.

Tara's mouth fell open a little. Holy shit. She blinked and tried to play it cool. "What changed? I thought he was an asshole."

"I think he just does a pretty good imitation of one when he's cornered."

"Huh," Tara said. "Reminds me of someone else I know."

Olivia grimaced. "So, okay, you win: I like him. I like him a lot. If we had been somewhere private instead of in the middle of a public park, I can't guarantee I wouldn't have gone all the way with him."

"Wow."

"I know. It's only been a month since Ben left for Portland, and I'm already thinking of having sex with someone else? I don't want it to be like that, like I jumped from in bed with Ben to in bed with Juice, and I know this sounds bad, but I just—I really don't want to be his girlfriend."

"Why not? You said you like him."

"That's part of why, Tara. I'm like—I'm tainted goods. I'm—"

"You know he doesn't care about that."

"No, I know, and he says it any time it comes up in conversation, but the thing is…I care. I know I shouldn't, and I know I act like I don't, but I do. I like Juice, and I _really_ like making out with Juice, but I don't want to give them any more to talk about. I don't want people making comments to him or whispering about us or treating him like shit because he's dating the school slut."

It was a dimension to the problem Tara hadn't considered before, but knowing Olivia it made perfect sense. She acted like nothing bothered her, like everything just rolled off without leaving a mark, but that was bullshit. And maybe she would be okay—or more okay—if it were just her, but honestly she would rather have a thousand rumors about her than just one that might hurt someone she cared about. It's why she was so desperate to keep the worst of it from her dad.

"So, okay," Tara said, her practical side taking over, "keep it a secret. Don't tell anybody. Not even us. I mean, obviously I know, but duh I'm your best friend. But don't tell Jax or Ope or Donna. Act normal at school and TM, and then sneak off and make out in the nearest closet."

Her mouth quirked, but then the smile faded when she realized Tara was being serious. "You aren't kidding."

"Nope. And if you aren't into anything, like, _serious_, just tell him that. Have sex with him if that's what you both want to do, but make sure he knows where you're coming from first. I can't imagine you want to lead him on or hurt him."

"No, of course not."

"Okay, then. Just be honest and upfront, and let him decide if it's what he wants. If he doesn't, well…sucks for him, because you're one hell of a great lay."

"Ha!"

"What? You must be. You had Mr. Collins panting after you for a month and basically willing to carry on a long-distance affair after he moved, and the shit you've told me? Jax owes you _huge_. At least eleven fruit baskets."

"Eleven?"

"Make it a baker's dozen, and add a muffin basket for the hell of it."

Olivia giggled. "Somethin' must be working, because you've never encouraged me to have casual sex before."

Tara sighed and fixed her friend with a stern look. "Ollie, babe, you know I love you, and you might be the High Priestess of the Church of Life's Too Short for Bad Sex, but you've got a _lot_ to learn about relationships."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Any sex you have with Juice Ortiz won't be casual. No one looks the way you two did after the mistletoe incident and then has _casual_ sex."

She chewed on the end of the pen that belonged with the cap she'd thrown at Tara earlier. "What do we have then?"

"Hot, crazy, wild, toe-curling sex, I hope. There's a lot of heat between you two; you'd have to be blind _and_ oblivious not to notice it."

"You think he's that good?"

Tara made a skeptical noise. "Unlikely. He is a sixteen-year-old boy, after all." She grinned and pressed her hands together. "But I'm sure you can teach him, O Wise One. Share your sagacious wisdom and bring enlightenment to another lost soul."

"I think _sagacious wisdom_ is kind of redundant."

"Also pretentious, but I don't point out _your_ flaws."

"Hum," she said, doubtfully. Then, "You're saying I should teach Juice all the ways of the Force and then release him unto the world to use his knowledge on _other_ girls?"

She hitched a shoulder. "Teach him, then keep him if you want. Never hurts to have a sex Jedi handy." She muffled a giggle. "I'm sure he'd love to let you play with his lightsaber."

"Boo! Party foul," Olivia said with a laugh.

"Oh, please, clearly that's where we were going. There's no way I could let it pass."

She acknowledged that with an amused quirk of her brow. "You know we're gonna fail this fuckin' test if we don't quit talking about Ortiz's lightsaber and actually study."

"You brought it up. I just ran with it." She held out a hand and Olivia passed her a stack of cards. "God, Ollie, just fuck Juice already so that I don't have to deal with color-coded flashcards anymore."

"You'll thank me tomorrow."

"Uh huh. And you'll thank _me_ when you're back on a steady diet of orgasms."

"Now who's the smug bitch?" Olivia said, grinning.

"That'd be me." She frowned. "All of these questions about Percy Shelley have the same answer. _Percy Shelley was married to this woman, the author of _Frankenstein_. Percy Shelley's wife invented what genre of literature. Percy Shelley lost a bet to his wife when she kicked everybody's ass by writing this Gothic horror classic._ Sneaky, sneaky."

She shrugged. "He told us to write an essay about Shelley. I plan on writing one about the woman in his life."

"I like your style, Gable. Think he'll fail us?"

"Depends on how good our bullshit is."

"Please. The best."

"No doubt."

"Welp," Tara said and picked up her pencil, "here's to under appreciated women everywhere."

"Fuck yeah," Olivia said.

"Fuck yeah," Tara echoed as they shared a smile.

* * *

_I'm pretty sure Juice has no clue what he's in for._

_Let know how you're doing, lovely readers. Your words always make me grin. :D_


	15. Out the Door

This chapter is kinda short, but I didn't want to try to tack anything else on to it. It does what it needs to do.

* * *

**hey you've got a lot of nerve to show your face 'round here**  
**hey you've got a lot of nerve to dredge up all my fears**  
**well i wish i could shake some sense into you and walk out the door**  
**but your skin is like porcelain**  
**yeah your skin is like porcelain**  
Better Than Ezra, "Porcelain"

It had been kind of a strange week. Ever since Opie's party last Sunday he and Olivia had been sort of dancing around each other. Not the same way as before—that awkward, stiff, _be careful or this whole thing might blow up_ sorta way, but instead in a kinda _oh shit what do we do now?_ way. The kisses in the garage had been nice, but sort of…innocent. What happened that night under the swings was completely different. They'd hung out Friday after school, talking cars and video games and (to his fascination, because he knew nothing about it) art.

He'd kissed her, and she'd kiss him back, and he wondered why he'd ever bothered kissing anyone else because when he kissed Olivia it was like everything good and cool and fun in his life had been compacted into that one moment when his lips were on hers and suddenly none of the bad shit mattered. At least for that moment.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. He'd thought about her a lot before, yeah, but now it was like he woke up thinking about her freckles and fell asleep remembering her laugh and he felt like a complete fucking _idiot_ because what the hell? Who got so caught up over a girl after a couple of kisses and once barely sorta touching her boobs?

Now it was Monday morning, and he was actually excited about being back at school. He hadn't seen her all weekend—she'd had plans with Tara Saturday and with her dad on Sunday—and his eyes scanned the parking lot for the Cougar as he pulled in. It was there, in its usual spot, but Olivia wasn't in it. Tara got out of the Cutlass as he cut his engine and dropped down the kickstand. He waved to her and she trotted over.

"Hey, yo," she said. "Good weekend?"

"Not bad," he said. "You?"

"Yup. You and Opie were keepin' my fella awfully busy yesterday."

"Dirt bikes, man. Never knew how fun they could be."

"That's because you grew up in a concrete jungle," she said with a grin. "Welcome to California."

There was a rumble of motorcycle engines behind them, and they stepped out of the way so Jax and Opie could park. Donna was perched on the back of Opie's bike, which was a surprise. When Tara asked her about it she shrugged.

"I told my dad I had to hit the library early this morning. Ope picked me up there."

"One day parents will understand that their rules are meaningless," Tara said with a grin.

"Right?" said Donna. "It's like they've never even read _Romeo and Juliet_."

"Didn't everybody die in that one?" Opie said as he threw an arm over her shoulder.

"Everyone dies in all of 'em, Ope," said Juice. "That Shakespeare was one sick fuck."

"Fuckin' or dyin', that's the Shakespeare life," Tara said.

"Sounds like the MC life to me," Jax said.

Even as they laughed Tara and Donna shared a look. It was too close to the truth to be truly funny, and it was something that worried both of them. They were young, in love (or at least in very deep _like_), and thinking long-term was kind of a foreign concept. But the MC was everywhere, and if you were gonna get involved with Jax Teller or Opie Winston, it was gonna be a part of your life.

"Anybody seen Ollie this morning?" Tara said.

"Don't you two usually carpool?" Jax said.

"Usually. She needed to come in early to finish some make up work for Mrs. Hanson."

"Her car's here," Juice said with a nod that way. "She's probably around somewhere."

They wandered toward the building with the rest of the crowd, and as they stepped through the big double doors all five of them stopped short. There were flyers strewn everywhere: all over the floor. Taped to the lockers. Stuck to the walls. One fluttered through the air near Juice's head and he grabbed at it. It took him a minute to decipher what he was seeing; the printed photo was fuzzy; but slowly he began to make sense of it.

It had been taken from across the street looking toward someone's front porch. He could tell by the bright hair it was Olivia, and she was locked in an embrace with a tall, thin guy with brown hair and the trace of a beard. His arms were around her waist, one hand resting casually on her ass, and hers were locked around his neck. They were kissing.

Below the picture a headline screamed in huge red font: "OLIVIA GABLE, VOTED _YOUR_ BLOWJOB QUEEN AND SANWA SOUTH'S #1 WHORE, LIVES UP TO HER TITLE. GET IT MR. C!1!11!"

"Holy shit," Juice said in a strangled voice.

"Oh my God," Tara whispered. "Oh my God!"

"Get them!" said Donna. "Take them down! Quick, before everyone sees!"

She grabbed double handfuls of the sheets off the floor, and after a stunned second Jax broke left and Opie broke right to do the same. Juice couldn't move. Tara touched his arm and he shook himself.

"You think she's seen these?" he said.

Tara's mouth was a grim line. "You should go find her."

"Me? Maybe you—"

"Juice," she said. She held up the flyer for him to see, as if the image wasn't seared into his brain. "You think it's best friend she needs right now? She knows what I'm gonna say: whoever did this is a fucking cocksucker and we're going to find him and cut his tiny little dick off with my manicure scissors."

He winced even though it did seem like a fit punishment. "Wow."

"It's not me she's gonna be worried about," Tara said like he hadn't spoken.

He blinked. "Why—?"

"Quit asking questions and go find her, idiot," she said with a sort of exasperated affection.

He wadded up the flyer in his hand and tossed it at the nearest trashcan. If she were on campus—and she had to be, because she wouldn't have left without the Cougar—then there was only one place she could be. He skidded around the corner, ripping down flyers as he went (Jesus Christ how much had they spent on paper?) and burst through the shop door.

He stopped to catch his breath, but she wasn't there. A half-finished sculpture stood shrouded next to the torch, and as he looked around he knew she wasn't in the room. One more place to check, and when he tried the door he found it unlocked. He pushed it open.

She sat on the sprung brown couch with her head bowed and a familiar sheet of paper in her hand. At the sound of the door she looked up, and he closed his eyes at the sight of her face. Opened them again and stepped inside.

"I thought I locked that," she said.

"It can be tricky." He made sure it was really locked this time and shuffled closer. She flinched and he stopped. Tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Another of the flyers was on the table. He picked it up and gave it a brief, dismissive glance.

"Man, someone's been a real litter bug this morning," he said. "The Ents are gonna be pissed when they hear about all this wasted paper."

Her head tilted. "Did you just make a Tolkien reference?"

"I read," he said.

"Apparently so." She looked away and clenched her fist around the sheet in her hand. "Everybody got some good reading this morning."

"Liv—" He broke off, at a loss. What could he say? There was pictorial evidence, so it wasn't like he could just dismiss it. And it wasn't timestamped, so there was no way for people to know if it had been before or after he was fired.

He sighed, shrugged out of his jacket, and draped it over a chair. He approached slowly, his expression wary, and when she didn't wave him off he sank down next to her. Lifted a hand and brushed it gently through her hair and down to rest against her neck. She flashed him a bitter look.

"You're seriously cool with being locked in a room alone with me?" She waved the flyer under his nose. "Haven't you heard? I'm a total whore. You should be running the other way."

He took it from her, crumpled it, and threw it across the room. "I don't give a fuck what those assholes think. You wanna walk out there right now? I'll hold your hand. I'll kiss you in front of God and everybody."

"All things considered that might just make things worse."

"Okay. Then I'll kiss you right here, with the door locked and nobody else around."

"Maybe I don't want you to kiss me at all."

"Then I won't." He pulled her closer. She fought him at first, but after a moment she sagged into him and her cheek fell against his chest. He gathered her onto his lap, her legs draped over his and her body twisted to press against him. She slid her arms around his middle and held on tight.

"I said before it wouldn't matter as much if I'd done the things they said," she mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt. "Looks like I was wrong. God my dad could find out about this. He would be so mad. Disappointed. I fucking hate disappointing him more than anything."

"Tara and everybody are picking them up right now. They'll probably all be gone before first bell."

"I guess TJ was just waiting, you know? Lulling me into complacency. I just wanna know who took the picture. Was he following me? Or was it some nosy neighbor, and he, I don't know—canvassed the fucking street or something?"

"Either way it's creepy as hell." He paused. "Olivia, I know what you said before about going after TJ, but honestly…I don't think I can just let this one slide. Jax and Opie are probably gonna feel the same way. The rumors were one thing, but this? He needs the shit kicked out of him."

She craned her neck and met his steady gaze with a frown. "I don't want anyone getting in trouble because of me. I'm not worth it."

"You know how I feel about that, so I'm not even gonna address it." His mouth quirked. "You should know Tara's already planning to castrate him with nail scissors."

Her eyes widened and she let out a huff of laughter. "It's better not to get on Tara's bad side. She's got one hell of a temper under that calm exterior."

"Yeah, I noticed." He ran his thumb over her cheek and she turned her head to kiss his palm. He hesitated. Somehow his other hand was on her thigh; he hadn't noticed before; and with her short plaid skirt and black over-the-knee socks, it was nothing but bare skin beneath his fingers. He brushed them against her and watched as her pupils went big.

She shifted on his lap and he winced. Jerked his hand away with a curse. What an idiot. What an asshole. He was supposed to be making her feel better and now he was hard and it was pressing right against her ass like—oh God that was making it worse.

Her mouth tilted in a smile. "Ortiz—"

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, fuck, I didn't—"

"It's okay," she said, laughing. She grabbed his wrist and guided him back to her thigh.

He let out a long breath and traced a fingertip around the top of her sock.

"You want to touch me?" she said, her voice somehow both incredibly sexy and incredibly vulnerable at the same time.

His chin jerked in a nod. "I always wanna touch you," he breathed. "Kind of—kind of go crazy wantin' to touch you."

"Good," she whispered as she pulled him down for a kiss. "Then do it."

He hesitated, torn between wanting her so bad he could barely stand it and not wanting to do anything to hurt her, ever. "Are you sure, Liv? I don't want—"

"I'm sure, Juice." His hand glided a little higher, further up her skirt, and she smiled. "Good touch," she said.

He understood, then, what she meant, and why Tara had insisted he be the one to find her: those flyers had made her feel dirty. Unclean and unwanted and, worse, unwant-able. She said she didn't regret the thing with Mr. C, and he believed her, but now it had been turned against her. The decision she'd made to try to take a tiny bit of control had blown up in her face and left her doubting everything.

Sex wasn't any sort of cure, but maybe right now it could at least be a quick-fix, a sort of soothing stopgap until the real work of putting herself back together could begin.

All of this flashed through his mind in an instant, but by the time he focused on her again she'd taken advantage of his brief distraction. Her hand was under his shirt, tickling his ribs, and her mouth was hot against the side of his neck.

"Livvie," he rasped as he rubbed his thumb against her inner thigh. He pulled her head back, gently, by the hair and captured her full lips. Nipped them with his and dipped his tongue between them to explore her sweet mouth.

She slid off his lap and scooted back toward the other arm of the couch. She smiled and crooked her finger, and he followed her, stretching his body out along hers and dropping kisses as he went: her tummy where her shirt rode up a little; her chest where the neckline dropped; the sensitive spot behind her ear that made her squirm.

"So good, Livvie," he murmured as he kissed her. "Taste so sweet, like candied violets."

She giggled and ran her fingers through his hair. "When have you ever had candied violets, Ortiz?"

"Haven't," he said. "But I bet they taste like you."

Her expression stilled and her eyes turned soft. "That's—" Abruptly she smiled, huge and bright, and he blinked at her. "That's ridiculous, Ortiz."

"Hum." He trailed his hand over her breasts—her nipples were obvious through her shirt as they hardened—and grinned at her. "You seem to like it."

"Come here," she said and pulled him down to her again. She tugged at the hem of his thermal shirt and he stripped it off. She stroked the lines of his back and sank her teeth, lightly, into his shoulder, and then harder when he groaned.

He had one hand under her shirt, playing with a nipple through her bra, and the other up her skirt rubbing her thigh. He kissed her drunkenly, roughly, and she responded with heated fervor. The spark between them kindled into a flame, then erupted in a full-on inferno with barely any pause between the two.

He shoved her shirt up and pulled the cup of her bra down and closed his mouth over her pink nipple. He'd never seen her breasts before. He couldn't spare the brain space to look, and all he wanted was to taste, taste, taste.

She gripped his scalp with strong fingers as her breath hitched and deepened into hard, sharp gasps.

"My panties," she whispered. He pulled them down with one long motion, left them tangled around her boots, and pushed her skirt higher.

Then, "Do you have a condom?"

"Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck goddamn hang on." He tore himself away to dig in his pants pocket for his wallet. He knew he had one in there. If it was expired or something he was gonna go throw himself in the reservoir with a rock tied to his ass.

She closed her eyes and fell back against the cushions. Her fingers bumped over the dimples just above his ass and he let out a hiss that made her grin.

"Found it!" he said.

She heard his belt jingle and the sound of his zipper, then the crinkle of the wrapper. She cracked an eyelid, but he was still facing away. She smiled as he spun toward her and sank down to kiss her again.

"Oh, you're back," she said.

"Miss me?" he asked as he nibbled her lip.

"Uh huh."

He brushed his fingers between her legs, over the soft curls, and his mouth fell open when he found her hot and wet and slick. "Fuck, Liv," he grated.

She laughed a little. "What can I say, baby? You wind me up."

The tip of his cock nudged her lips and she frowned a little. "Juice—"

He rocked against her, slipping partway in, but she was still tight. He panted, his eyes squeezed shut, and pushed deeper.

"What are you doing?" she said. "Juice, wait."

He froze. "Huh?"

She shoved at his shoulder. "Stop. Just stop."

Completely confused and more than a little lust-addled, he stared at her as he struggled to make sense of it. One thing was clear: she was suddenly very unhappy with him, and he had no clue what he'd done. He sat up and fell back on his heels, his erection bouncing absurdly against his belly.

"Liv, what—"

"_What_ is a damn good question, Ortiz. As in _what_ the hell was that about?"

"I don't understand." He rubbed a hand over his head. Had he missed something? Obviously, because she'd swung her legs around and was pulling her panties up and her eyes were hot with fury instead of passion like they'd been ten seconds ago.

"Tell me what I did, Liv. Please. Just tell me what's wrong."

"Unbelievable. Seriously, Juice? Really?" He looked so genuinely puzzled, so honestly befuddled, that she threw her hands up in frustration. "You can't just go shoving it in, Ortiz! There's such a thing as foreplay, you know, and it takes a little longer than two minutes!"

"Wha…? You asked if I had a condom. You were, like, _soaking_ wet. I thought you were ready!"

"I asked about the condom so that _if_ we got to that stage there wouldn't be any last minute scrambling. I'm on the Pill, but I like backup, and I prefer to plan ahead a little. And, yeah, I was wet. That's…" She trailed off with a scowl. "That's a pretty standard reaction when you touch me."

"It is?"

"Focus, Juice!"

"Sorry, I just—"

"You really think that's all there is to it? Some kisses and a little nipple play and bam, I'm ready to go?"

"It's always worked before," he mumbled.

She leaned down to look him in the face. "No offense, Ortiz, but has it? Has it really? Maybe go back and ask them. You might be surprised at the answer."

She scooped her backpack up from the chair and tossed his jacket over her shoulder. Paused a moment to study the flyer and smirked. "If it's one thing the Blowjob Queen and SanWa South's number one whore knows about, it's fucking. Come find me when you're ready to learn a thing or two."

She sauntered toward the door.

"Liv, wait!"

She stopped but didn't look back. Her hand was on the doorknob. He scrambled for something to say. "That—that's my jacket," he finally managed.

She tossed a smile his way. "You can have it back when you've earned it."

"How—how do I—?"

"Guess, Ortiz," she said. "Take a wild guess."

Then she was gone, and he slumped back against the couch with a long string of curses. What the _fuck_ had just happened? He could still feel her. Taste her on his lips. Smell her on his fingers. He groaned at the scent, all musk and honey and _Olivia._ He licked his fingertips. His other hand drifted down to grasp his still-throbbing cock.

Goddamn she twisted him up. He'd had her wet and dripping beneath him and somehow he'd fucked it all up. How had he even managed that? He'd been _inside her_ and it still hadn't happened.

He stroked himself, using the lubed (inside and out) condom as a sort of sheath. He tightened his fingers around his shaft and thrust into his hand. Closed his eyes and moaned out her name. He knelt on that ugly brown couch in the break room, shirtless, with his pants and underwear around his knees, his cock in his hand, and his face scrunched in concentration. What would she think if she changed her mind and walked in right now? Would she be grossed out or turned on?

Somehow, with Olivia, he thought turned on. She'd give him that _look_, that little mouth-quirked-eyebrows-raised smirk that went straight to his gut every time. Maybe she'd take over with her hand or, God fuck _wow_, her _mouth_, that sweet soft mouth that he loved to kiss so much, that felt so fucking _good_ when she…

Or maybe she'd wiggle out of her panties and sit down across from him. Spread her legs in their sexy over-the-knee socks and watch him. Her hand would drift down…she'd rub her clit and shove her fingers inside…

"Fuck," he gasped, "fuck holy shit yeah, Livvie, let me watch you come…!" His hips bucked and he exploded, his dick jerking again and again and his balls spasming until he thought every single drop of jizz they'd ever held was now in the condom.

No kids for Juice Ortiz: he was completely out of sperm.

The thought made him laugh in his giddy, post-orgasmic state. But then he sagged like his strings had been cut. Now what? She'd told him to find her when he wanted to learn. Learn what? Asia and Dana had never complained.

_Ask them_, she'd said. He scowled and yanked the condom off. Tied the end and stumbled to his feet to fix his clothes. He buried the used condom in the trashcan under papers and pencil shavings and candy wrappers; the last thing Olivia needed was someone finding it in the break room trash. She was the only girl who was ever around the shop, and Juice knew what everyone would think.

He couldn't decide if the fact that it was half-true made it better or worse.

She'd taken his fucking jacket. He hitched his backpack onto his shoulder and stomped out. Earn it back. Jesus Christ. His own fucking jacket!

But despite his frustration and anger, he skipped homeroom to track down Asia and Dana. Apparently he had a few questions for them.

* * *

_For those of you who've read _Come With Me Tonight_, you'll recognize the jacket thing. Other-timeline Olivia warned him. :) (sounds like we're watching_ Fringe)

_I hate that ff truncates extra punctuation. There were a lot more exclamation points on that flyer._

_So I'm cruising right along through ch19, but you guys know I love hearing from you. :)_


	16. Crashing Down

I, too, feel bad for Juice: but don't worry. It's all for the best. :)

Also, this chapter shares the name with a chapter of _Come With Me Tonight_, but for two different songs. Hum.

* * *

**and you'll be hurting in a way you can't explain**  
**and all those pretty things you love will look so vain**  
**'cos the laughing crowd is such a hopeless sound**  
**when loneliness comes crashing down**  
Del Amitri, "Crashing Down"

Olivia was both surprised and concerned when she got home and her father's old, beat up pickup was still in the driveway. He should've left for work hours ago. She closed her eyes and gripped the steering wheel. Maybe he was sick. He'd actually been sniffling some yesterday, like maybe he was coming down with something, so it could've turned into a full-blown cold. Or the flu! That was probably it. He had the flu and would be bundled up on the couch and whining for soup.

You knew your life was fucked up when you found yourself wishing the flu on your father.

She locked the car behind her and went inside. Carefully hung Juice's jacket in the hall closet. Her dad never went in there, and the last thing she wanted was him grilling her as to why she suddenly had a leather jacket ten sizes too big—that smelled like sandalwood and cigarettes, not that she'd sniffed it or anything.

She tiptoed down the hall, avoiding the squeaky board, and she'd just touched her doorknob when his voice floated from the kitchen.

"Olivia, is that you? Come in here, please."

Her shoulders fell and she mumbled a low curse. She walked back that way with her head high, though, and when she peeked around the corner she knew she was in trouble.

"Hi, Daddy. What's up?"

His fingers were steepled on the table, and when he lifted his hand her heart stuttered and the blood drained out of her face.

"Daddy, please, I can explain—"

"Sit down, Olivia," he said, in that quiet voice that meant she was in the deepest of deep shit.

She sank down into a chair across from him. He tapped a finger against the headline.

"Now I get that the first part of this has to do with those rumors TJ started. I assume it's completely baseless and just high school bullshit."

She nodded wordlessly, but to his credit it had been rhetorical.

"It's the second part that concerns me. And the photo, of course, because you already told me about the other rumor—and assured me it wasn't true." He held the flyer up and studied it with squinted eyes. "I don't know Ben Collins that well, but if I ran into him on the street I'd be able to call him by name." He dropped it again and fixed her with a look. "Olivia, is this a picture of you kissing Mr. Collins on what I assume is his front porch?"

Her chin dropped, and she stared at her fingers as they fidgeted with each other. "Yeah, Dad," she mumbled. "That's what it is."

He rubbed his forehead and leaned toward her with his elbows on the table. "Please explain to me the context of this photograph. You told me nothing improper happened between you two, and yet I find myself staring at pictorial evidence that was shoved through our mail slot."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Pressed her palms to the table's wooden surface to stop her hands' trembling. She met his concerned blue gaze, and her eyes were steady. "This was taken after he was fired. Nothing _did_ happen—while he was my teacher. I wasn't lying about that. I promise you."

Olivia didn't make promises lightly; he knew that; and after a moment he tilted his head in brief acknowledgement. "What happened, Ollie? He decided his firing was an opportunity to improve his social life?"

"Dad, no, it wasn't like that at all."

He lifted a brow and made a gesture like _so, tell me then_.

"I'm the one who came on to him. I went over to his house to apologize and make sure he knew I wasn't behind the rumors, and while I was there I just…I kind of just thought why not? Everyone already thought it anyway. He'd already lost his job. Why not?" she said.

"Why _not_? Olivia! I thought your mother and I raised you to have more self-respect. He is a grown man. He should know better than to mess around with a teenage girl, and _you_ should know better than to throw yourself at him like—"

He cut himself off and she lifted a brow. "Like a slut?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you're kind of thinking it. The girl who seduces her teacher—even her former teacher—is the slut, right? Well, see, that's kind of the problem. Because I'm _not_ a slut. I never have been. And even if I _were_, people still wouldn't have the right to judge me. Who am I hurting?"

His eyes darkened with concern. "Yourself, sweetheart. This kind of behavior—"

"Daddy. I've been on the Pill since I was fifteen. He used a condom. We _tried_ to be discreet, but either I have a stalker or he has particularly nosy neighbors."

"It's good that you were responsible, but, Olivia, this isn't okay. How old is he?"

"Twenty-six."

He absorbed that in silence. "It is not okay for you to have sex with your twenty-six-year-old teacher."

She held up a hand. "Can we break that statement down for a moment?"

He sighed but motioned for her to continue. He knew her well enough to give her her say.

"Okay. The reason it isn't okay for students and teachers to have affairs—or employees and bosses, for that matter—is that there's a power imbalance. No matter who initiates the affair, the person in the position of authority _always_ has the power. They can threaten you with a bad grade or even boost your grade because they've seen you naked. And then if the person with less power wants to end it or just control the other person, they threaten to expose the whole thing.

"Either way it's an incredibly unhealthy dynamic, and it's not something I have any interest in. At all."

"All right," he said after a quiet moment. "So you're saying you removed the power imbalance by waiting until _after_ he was fired. Olivia, he's still nine years older than you!"

"I know. But, Dad, is your problem that I had sex with someone nine years older—or that I had sex?"

He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Both."

"So if that were a picture of Opie and me you'd be mad, but not _as_ mad?"

"At least Opie is your classmate! A friend you've known nearly your whole life!"

"Okay, then I guess I should tell you I had sex with Opie when we were dating last year."

He flinched. "Pumpkin, I don't need the details of your—of your sex life."

"Except apparently you do, because you're upset that I didn't tell you about this." She tapped the flyer.

"Look, Daddy, I get that you're my father, and it's a father's job to look out for his kids—especially his daughter—but you've gotta understand. I go to a school where a guy can start a rumor that I fellated the entire football team basically just because I _wouldn't_ have sex with him, and then a month later I'm officially voted Blowjob Queen in a school-wide poll." She paused. "Do you see my problem?"

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," he muttered.

"Exactly. I live with this every day. The looks. The whispers. The—the guys treat me like I'm a piece of meat and the girls treat me like I'm disgusting. Things had finally started to calm down, and now this. You should've seen it today. The place was practically wallpapered with them."

He sighed and shook his head. "I'm so sorry you're going through this, Olivia. I wish I could help you. I just don't understand—if you wanted to rebel, why did you choose Mr. Collins?"

"What? You'd rather I chose Tig Trager?"

He made a face. "Don't even joke."

"Mr. Collins treated me well, Dad. I mean, once the rumors and everything started, everybody's behavior changed. Even my friends became really _careful_ around me. He was the same as he'd always been. He didn't look at me weird or pity me; he just told me he didn't believe it, asked if I was okay, and moved on."

"I assume this was while he was still your teacher."

She nodded. "When they told me he'd been fired I was pissed not just because he was a great teacher and it was a huge loss for the school—do you have any idea how metal shop kids are treated? Like they're total losers with no potential. Mr. C wasn't like that at all, ever, and it's what made him so awesome."

She waved a hand. "Sorry. Anyway, it was extra painful because he'd been so normal when no one else was. It was like, great. The one person who doesn't treat me like I just got diagnosed with cancer is booted out and it's because of me. Me, and a lie."

"So your response was to sleep with him? That doesn't make sense to me."

"My response was to say _screw you_ to all those assholes at school who tried to make my sexuality something shameful. There's no reason for it, Dad! They didn't have any right to violate me like that. They didn't have any right to make me feel like my entire value as a human being is tied up in some mythical notion of purity."

His brows drew together. "Olivia, honey, no one is saying that."

"That's exactly what _everyone_ is saying! I'm a slut—a girl who enjoys promiscuous sex—so therefore they can treat me any way they want. The guys can leer at me and the girls can whisper about me and the teachers can pity me. Any guy I might want to date doesn't want anything to do with me, because I'm tainted goods. Guys who never gave me a second glance before suddenly know my name and shove panties or condoms into my locker between classes!"

Her voice had thickened as she spoke, and by the time the torrent of words dried up she was crying. Her head fell onto her folded arms and she sobbed. "I just wanted something for _me_, Daddy," she said. "If I were a boy you wouldn't be looking at me like I'd disappointed you. You might be mad because it was a stupid idea, but you wouldn't be _disappointed_. I wouldn't've let you down."

"Oh, baby." He moved around to kneel beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It's all right, sweetheart. It's okay. It's my job as your father to protect you, like you said. I hate that I didn't protect you from this. I hate that your reaction was to go out and seduce a twenty-six-year-old man."

She raised her head and sniffled. Wiped at her eyes and blinked at him. "Dad, don't you get it? It's what _I_ wanted to do. Everyone expected Opie and me to be together, so I went out with him. When you date a guy in high school, he expects after a certain point that the relationship turns sexual. Let me clarify: _Opie_ never pressured me. High school _culture_ did.

"Then I went out with TJ, and he _did_ pressure me, and it's when I told him no that he got violent. I broke up with him and he started this rumor and took my choice away from me. It's a form of rape, Dad. It's sexual violence. I am being robbed of my choice.

"So then the crap with Mr. C happened and yet again—my choice is taken away. And so is his because the school board fired him over a lie told by a jealous girl in a fit of petty rage. When I went over there to apologize to him I looked at all the choices I'd made either because I was pressured to or because it's what was expected of me, and I looked at all the choices that had been taken _away_ from me, and I just…I chose, Dad. I know it's not what you would have had me do, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let you down."

She shook her head and swiped a hand against her cheek. "But the entire world let _me_ down. I know that sounds melodramatic, but that's how I feel sometimes. I did what I was supposed to do. Yes, I slept with my boyfriend, but as you pointed out we'd been friends forever, and it was something we did as part of a stable, monogamous relationship. I _didn't_ sleep with the boy who treated me bad, and I told him to take a walk when he got rough.

"I did what society tells me a good girl does: don't have sex with the bad boy. Keep your head down and your legs closed. Don't let a boy pressure you into doing something you don't want to. I did everything right, Daddy. Everything! And I'm still being punished. I'm the Blowjob Queen and SanWa South's number one whore. A man lost his job because of me. An entire forest of trees was turned into printer paper because of me!"

"Okay," he said as she dissolved into another sob. "All right, Ollie, it's okay." He pulled her against him and ran a hand over her hair. "I have no idea what it's like to be you, baby. I've got no idea what you go through every day."

"You're lookin' at it," she said through her tears. "I don't want a script written for me. I don't want to force myself into some stupid mold: good girl or bad girl, nerd girl or party girl. I'm not that. I'm not any of that. I'm just _me_ and I just want to make my own choices."

"I think that's what every teenager wants, pumpkin." He rose and scooted into the chair next to her. "Is this still going on?" he finally said.

"No. He moved to Portland last month."

"Last _month_? How long—no. Never mind. I don't want to know." He shook his head, and his expression was grave. "I understand how powerless and angry you must feel. I'm just worried that _this_ was the choice you made."

"I never said it was a _smart_ choice. I fully recognize that. It's why I was trying to keep it a secret."

"I know I work too much. I'm not around enough to spend time with you and help you with all this bullshit."

"None of this is your fault, Daddy."

He lifted his hands in a shrug. "I was fooled by TJ Flanary. I'm the one who encouraged you to go out with him when you seemed reluctant."

"If I'd said no he would've kept asking. Eventually something like this would've happened anyway, just maybe on a smaller scale."

He took her hand in his and smiled at her, but there was sadness in his face that he couldn't hide. "Olivia, you're a beautiful young woman. You're smart and funny, and you have a lot to offer the world. I want you to get out of Charming. I don't want you to fall in with some boy—one of those biker boys like Jax or Opie—and get stuck here. You deserve more. Better."

It hurt that even her dad started off with _you're beautiful_. Wasn't being smart and funny more important? Beauty fades.

She took a deep breath. "You know perfectly well Jax and Tara are like soul mates or something, and Opie and I didn't work out, so that isn't really a danger."

He hesitated. "What about Juice?"

"Juice…? Dad." She shook her head. "No. Just no."

He wasn't sure he believed her, but it wasn't like he could torture it out of her. He sat back in his chair with a long sigh. "Okay, kiddo, here's what's gonna happen. I'm not going to ground you because I wouldn't be around here to enforce it anyway. You can keep your job at TM, though I have deep reservations about it. I'm not going to forbid you from seeing your friends even though I think they're a bad influence."

"Okay," she said, slowly. "What, then?"

"I'm taking the Cougar."

Her mouth fell open and color flooded her cheeks. "Dad, no! Come on. None of this has affected my grades. I haven't skipped class since that day we talked about it. I don't drink. I don't smoke or do drugs. I'm literally the _only_ one of my friends who hasn't been arrested. Like I told you, I'm on the Pill _and_ we used a condom. I'm a responsible person. You know that!"

"I do know that, Ollie. That's why I'm so surprised by this."

"You're punishing me for having sex? Even though it was with someone I knew and trusted, and we used protection? I could've banged a complete stranger in a cheap motel somewhere!"

He cringed. "Don't put that image in my head. I'm not punishing you for having sex, sweetheart. I'm punishing you for making an irresponsible decision. You can do better."

"So if it _had_ been Juice, I'd get to keep my car?"

He was quiet a long time. So long that she started to fidget again. Finally he said, "If you were dating Juice, would you bring him home to meet me?"

Her brow creased. "You've already met him, Dad."

"Olivia. Would you bring him home to meet me?"

"Yeah, of course I would. He's a nice kid."

"Okay. You brought TJ home. Opie. But you kept this thing with Mr. Collins a secret from everybody. That should tell you something."

She slumped back in her chair and swallowed hard. "What if it had been a girl?"

"What?"

She flicked her fingers at the flyer. "What if that were a picture of me and a girl. I probably wouldn't have brought her home because I have no clue how you would react. But would you still be punishing me?"

He stared at her. "What are you trying to tell me, Olivia?"

She drew in a breath. This wasn't at all how she'd planned it (if she'd planned it at all), but too late now. "I'm bisexual, Dad. I like boys and girls. Tara offered to fix me up with a girl to help me get past all this crap, but I told her no. But if I'd said yes, and we'd started dating, I don't know if I would've brought her home to meet you."

He looked like he'd been hit with way too much information in way too short a time. "Um." He scratched his eyebrow. "I'm not—I'm not sure what to say. No, Ollie. I wouldn't punish you if it were a girl in the picture. But if Mr. Collins had been _Ms._ Collins, then yeah. I'd still take the car. The point isn't the sexual activity, honey: the point is your choice of partner."

He leaned a little closer. "Also, you're seventeen. Do you think, maybe, the bisexual thing is—"

"If you say _a phase_, I swear to God." She shook her head. "Why does my age have anything to do with it? By the time you were seventeen you knew you were straight, right? You knew you liked girls?"

"Yeah, of course, but—"

"_But_ nothing. It's fine to be seventeen and sure you're _straight_, but the second you're seventeen and sure you're anything _but_, suddenly you're too young and it's just a phase. I like kissing girls, Dad. I like kissing boys, too." She looked away. "I hope it's okay with you. I mean, I'll still be that way even if it's not, but I love you and I want it to be okay."

"This has been a very eye-opening conversation."

"To say the least," she said with a brief smile.

"Olivia, I love you no matter what. You're the most important thing in the world to me. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, Dad, of course I do."

"Good." He looked like he was choking back tears of his own. "If you ever want to bring a girl home, I'd be thrilled to meet her. I want you to be happy, sweetheart."

"Then why are you taking my car away? Being with Mr. Collins didn't make me _un_happy."

He frowned. "That isn't the same thing as happy. You know that. You deserve happiness, and you know perfectly well that sleeping with your twenty-six-year-old teacher—_former_ teacher—isn't the way to get it."

"You're the second person to tell me that."

"Then maybe you should listen," he said, his tone gentler than the words would suggest.

"Yeah," she said. Her mouth moved in a sad grimace. "I guess I should."

He squeezed her hand again. "Go get started on your homework, pumpkin. I'll make us spaghetti for dinner."

He made the most amazing from-scratch spaghetti sauce. Her eyes widened a little. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. Just gotta run to the store for a few things. Keys?" He held out his hand and she scowled at it.

"They're hanging by the door."

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he went by. "I love you, pumpkin."

"I love you too, Daddy." She spun around in her seat and he looked back with a question on his brow. "Would it be okay if I invited someone for dinner?"

"What kind of someone?"

She hesitated. "A…friend. But, you know him, so…"

He grinned a little. "Juice Ortiz?"

"Why would you think—"

"Olivia."

She rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "Yes, Dad. Juice Ortiz."

"Invite him." He paused in the doorway. "Find out his name, Ollie. I can't take someone seriously who shares a nickname with food."

"You call me _pumpkin_!"

"Completely different."

He walked away, and she muttered something.

"What was that?"

"You know all about him from his mom, but you didn't ask his _name_?"

"_I_ know his name. I just want to make sure _you_ do!"

She opened her mouth, but before she could think of an adequate response she heard the door close behind him.

* * *

What had she been thinking? Why had she asked if she could invite Juice to dinner? Why had she even _wanted_ to invite Juice to dinner? She could just tell her dad he couldn't come. He had a test tomorrow and had to study, or he already had plans with his mom—there were a hundred reasons why he couldn't accept a last-minute invitation.

Her dad knew him already. She had zero plans to date him. At least…hardly any plans to date him. She didn't want to date anybody. She didn't want to _date_ Juice so much as have lots and lots of sex with him.

Except they'd tried that today and it hadn't worked so much. Well it _had_. Spectacularly well. Until he'd turned into a _boy_ and thought he could just shove it in and she'd be all aflutter.

In fairness she'd been pretty damn aflutter before that happened. There was no lack of fluttering where Ortiz was concerned. He just needed to learn a little follow through.

She really, really hoped to be the one to teach him. Step one was recognizing you have a problem, so hopefully he'd get that out of the way quickly and come find her. She wasn't about to approach him on the topic, so unless he brought it up they were strictly platonic from here on out. No more kissing. No more touching. No more of those sexy, shivery rasping whispers in her ear when he—

Whoa there. That sort of thinking was not conducive to a platonic relationship.

_If_ he decided to broach the subject, she wanted to be ready. It would require a lot of time and effort. A lot of…

"Stop it," she muttered. "Focus."

It would be better if her dad thought she and Juice were spending so much time together because they were dating rather than just…fucking. A lot. Hopefully. Despite what he'd said earlier about not wanting to see her get involved with anyone associated with SAMCRO (however tenuously), she knew he liked Juice because he liked Ana. If he came over and acted like he had some sense her dad might let up a little.

Okay. It was just dinner. With her father. No big deal. They'd met before.

She took a deep breath and dialed his number. Maybe he wasn't home. He could be at TM this afternoon. She had decided to hang up when he answered.

"Hello?"

She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Oh God. She'd lost her mind.

"Um, hello? Anybody there?"

She shook her head. "Hey, hi. Sorry. It's Olivia."

"Oh." Even in that brief syllable she could hear the apprehension in his voice. "What's, um. What's up?"

"I—wow, this is going to sound nuts and maybe I should've thought it through a little more carefully. I mean, you probably think…I don't know what you might think after today, but I—"

"Olivia," he said, gently. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come over tonight and have dinner with my dad and me. He's making spaghetti and his sauce is amazing and I just thought it might be nice if you came over and we hung out a little but without any sort of weirdness or pressure about sex because I mean my dad will be there and—"

"Wow. Holy—wow. Breathe, Liv." He laughed, but it wasn't mean. More, kind of…fond?

She buried her face in her hand. "I'm sorry. I sound like a crazy person. Juice, would you like to come over tonight and have some of my dad's famous spaghetti? My dad will be here, and I'm pretty sure he wants to get a look at you when eggnog's not involved."

There was a pause. "Why would he want to get a look at me?"

"Someone slipped one of those flyers in our mail chute."

"Ohhh. Shit, Liv. I'm sorry."

"He was actually—like, _surprisingly_ cool about it. He took the car, though."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Explain to me again what that has to do with me coming to dinner."

She grinned. He was so dumb and cute. Not dumb in an unintelligent way, but in a.… She let the thought trail away and cleared her throat. "He might have acted cool, but he's going to be incredibly over protective for the next…I don't know. Ever. Until I leave for college. Beyond, even. He's not gonna let me go out with anyone he doesn't know well."

"Is that what we're doin', Liv? Going out?"

"No." She frowned. "I don't know. Maybe." She paced a small circle and rubbed her forehead. "I can't really be your girlfriend, Juice. It's not what I want. Not because of you—you're actually pretty great—but just because I can't be someone's girlfriend _and_ be the Blowjob Queen."

"You know I don't care about that shit, Olivia."

"I know, Juicy. I know. But _I_ care."

"Okay," he said, his voice quiet. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again he sounded wary. "Look, about earlier? In the break room, I mean."

"I figured," she said, dryly.

"I talked to Dana."

"Oh." She wasn't sure how to take that. She rested her head against the wall and waited him out.

"I guess—I guess maybe…I could learn a few things."

She laughed a little. "Are you asking me to teach you?"

He was quiet a long time. She thought he might've hung up, but finally he said, "I don't know. What, um. What would that involve?"

Her voice went soft and low. "Why don't you come over for dinner, Ortiz, and maybe we can talk about it after."

"You can't do that. That's not fair."

"Do what, sugar?" she murmured.

"Olivia!" he said, half a groan.

She giggled and took pity on him. "If you want to come, dinner's at seven."

"Yeah, okay," he said. "I really like spaghetti." He paused a second. Then, "Wait. Do you mean, like, come _over_, or _come_?"

"I don't know, Juicy. But won't it be fun finding out?"

* * *

_So I hope the conversation between Olivia and her dad helped illuminate a few things about why she's made the choices she's made, and exactly how upset she is. I've glossed over the latter a little bit, mostly bc she isn't the type to really show it. But obviously it's affected her deeply._

_Next chapter is actually really cute, so stay tuned. :)_

_Also! Reviews might just get you some of Olivia's dad's famous spaghetti sauce. I'm really hungry right now and spaghetti sounds amazing._


	17. Hung the Moon

I said before this chapter is kinda cute, and I stand by that. You've been warned.

* * *

**they say you're off (a bit confused)**  
**but when the day is done**  
**i'll be with you**  
**i like your eyes**  
**they say you're true**  
**the others whisper and lie**  
Better Than Ezra, "Hung the Moon"

It was five till seven when the bell rang. Punctual. That was a point in his favor.

"Oh, good, your boyfriend's here."

Olivia gave him a look. "Be nice, Daddy. We're just friends. Start talking like that and you'll scare him off."

"How is that a bad thing?" he called as she disappeared down the hall.

"Be _nice_!"

She paused in front of the door and took a deep breath. It was just Juice. This was no big deal. She opened the door with a smile on her face, and it faded when she saw him. He was wearing black trousers and a white button down shirt. She'd never seen him in anything but various iterations of cargo pants and t-shirts, and for a moment she was at a loss for words.

"Hey," he said, and the sound of his voice snapped her out of it.

"Hi. You look—you look really nice."

"Oh." He glanced down with a small frown. "I just thought—I mean, your dad's cooking and everything, so I thought maybe I should—"

"It's perfect," she said. She was suddenly self conscious of her ripped jeans and plaid shirt. She ran a hand back through her hair and gestured for him to come inside. "Um, I hope it goes without saying that as far as he's concerned you've never been in our house before?"

"Yeah," he said, "of course."

"Great. I figured, I just..."

"Same page. Yeah, Liv. I know."

Their eyes met and held, and neither of them wanted to look away. She hooked her thumbs over her back pockets. His lips curved in a slow smile; it started small and then spread, and she felt her mouth go dry.

Wow. She hadn't really realized—

"Olivia?" her dad said from the kitchen.

"Yeah, Dad, we're coming." She gestured for Juice to follow her and opened the hall closet. "Just so you know I'm taking care of it," she said.

"I can't believe you stole my jacket."

"I didn't steal it. I'm borrowing it. And you'll get it back." She grinned. "Maybe."

"Um, yeah, about that—"

She pressed a finger to her lips. "Not now, Ortiz. We have to go say hello to my father."

Juice made a face, but he followed her into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. "It smells amazing in here," he said.

She cast him a smile over her shoulder. "I keep telling Dad he should bottle his sauce and sell it. We'd make a fortune."

"Ollie, grab the bread out of the oven, will you?" He stripped off the oven mitt and handed it to her before he held out his hand to Juice. "Good to see you again, Juice."

"You too, sir," he said as they shook.

"How's your mom?"

He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "She's doin' better. Should be back at work soon."

Olivia set the hot pan down on the stove and turned toward them. "Juice, is your mom sick?"

"Uh…I mean, kind of. She was in the hospital a couple days, but like I said…" He trailed off with a shrug.

She wanted to ask why he hadn't told her, but she knew: _you get kinda mean when you think people are getting too close_. She flushed and looked away, suddenly ashamed. She felt like a total jerk. "I'm sorry," she said, quietly. "I'm glad she's doing better."

Juice could tell she was talking about more than his mom, and he accepted it with a brief nod. _We can talk about it later_, his eyes said.

James cleared his throat. "All right! Who's hungry?"

"I'm starving," she said.

He handed her a stack of plates. "Then you can set the table."

"What can I do, Mr. Gable?"

He eyed him. "Make sure she doesn't break anything."

"Dad."

"Sorry, pumpkin. You drop things when you get nervous."

"I'm not—" She broke off and thrust a bundle of silverware at Juice. "Don't listen to him," she said.

"He calls you _pumpkin_?" he said with a grin. "That's cute."

"Shut up, Ortiz."

"It's because of her hair, of course, but also because she was the roundest baby you've ever seen. An adorable little pumpkin baby."

"Oh my God this is a nightmare."

"I'm allergic to pumpkin," Juice said.

"Oh good," her dad remarked, "I guess that means I don't have to worry about you eating my daughter."

Juice choked and Olivia rubbed a hand against her forehead. "Nope, I was wrong. I'm dead and this is actually Hell."

It went mostly okay after that. There was one rocky moment when Olivia's dad brought up baseball and Juice said he was a Yankees fan. James was a dyed-in-the-wool Braves fan, and after the high of the '95 World Series, the '96 loss against the Yankees had been bitter. He had vowed to never forgive and never forget.

"Dad," Olivia said as she forked up some pasta, "I don't think it's a deficiency of character. He was born and raised in Queens. You were born and raised in Atlanta. You're both products of your environment."

He leaned closer to Juice and lowered his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. "You ever notice how her arguments get really logical when she doesn't have a horse in the race?"

Juice laughed and Olivia glared at them both. "It's not fair to gang up on me." She pointed at Juice. "Yankees fan." At her dad. "Braves fan."

"Nobody's perfect," Juice said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes and pretended to be absorbed in her food.

As the meal wound down Olivia got up to collect the plates, but James waved her away. "Go on, pumpkin. You have company."

"You cooked," she said. "That means I clean up."

"I think we can make an exception tonight."

"Nah, it's okay," Juice said and jumped to his feet. "I'll help."

Her mouth quirked as he helped clear the table, and once they were in the kitchen, she murmured in his ear, "Layin' it on a little thick, dontcha think?"

"Is it working?"

She added dish soap to the sink and shook her head. "Nope."

"Liar."

She nudged him with her shoulder and they both laughed.

James leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest, and watched them. They squabbled a little over who would wash and who would dry, but once that was decided they settled into a natural rhythm: Olivia soaped each plate, rinsed it, and passed it to him. He would dry it and she would point to its cabinet. He reached over her head to put things away, and by the time he was done she had a new dish for him.

He didn't miss the way Juice looked at her, his dark eyes intent (on her face, he was pleased to note) and his face practically glowing. She snuck surreptitious glances at him when she thought no one was paying attention, and her smile was a little different than he'd ever seen before.

He felt a pain around his heart. She wasn't his little girl anymore, with gaps in her teeth and her hair in pigtails. She was growing up—grown, basically—and maybe it was about time she dated someone who looked at her like she hung the moon. And at least he was sixteen, not twenty-six.

It was too bad about the motorcycle.

* * *

It was barely eight thirty when they finished the dishes, so Olivia and Juice decided to go for a ride. Her dad had reminded them of her eleven o'clock curfew, which prompted an eye roll from Olivia and a solemn promise from Juice.

He really _was_ laying it on thick.

Apparently he'd learned a bit more about navigating San Joaquin County since the night of the big game, because he drove without hesitation or questions. The wind felt amazing, if a little cool, but his warm body acted as a shield from the worst of it. She gripped his waist and enjoyed the way he smelled when he wouldn't notice her doing it.

After fifteen minutes or so he pulled over and dismounted. Held out a hand to help her and then didn't drop it once she was on her feet again.

"Where are we?" she said.

"Come on. Up here."

A skinny path snaked into the side of the hill, and she followed him up. When they reached the top of the plateau there was an amazing view to their left and a grove of fragrant pines to their right. The moon was thin, on its way out, and it was dark under the tree boughs, but he didn't let go of her hand as he led her. Finally he stopped and pointed up.

She gave him a funny look and then craned her neck. "Oh," she said, an awed breath. There were a million stars on a dark blue velvet sky, maybe more stars than she'd ever seen before. "Wow."

He grinned. "Yeah. Great, right? This is where I come to think a lot of the time." He dropped to the ground and helped her down next to him. There was a soft bed of pine needles, and he stretched out on his back.

He dug in his jacket pocket and held up a baggie. She gave a regretful shake of her head. "If my dad smells it I'm dead. I don't have a lot of leeway with him right now."

"No problem," he said and tucked it away. "Maybe not the best idea right here anyway."

"Only _you_ can prevent forest fires."

"I didn't know that was a real thing until I moved out here. I mean, you see things about fires on TV, but that's not the same thing. It's wild. California, I mean. It's like a whole different world."

She smiled and stretched out next to him, hooking an arm behind her head. "The land of milk and honey. That's what they called California during the Depression. People fled the Dust Bowl and came out here thinking they'd make their fortune. They ended up picking oranges."

"That's cheerful."

"Yeah. But isn't that how it is? They left the old world to come here to live in tenements and shovel horse shit. It's just…nothing is ever what the brochure promises."

He cut his eyes her way. "Never knew you were such a pessimist."

"I wasn't. I mean, I haven't been. Before. But I don't know. Lately every time I think things might end up okay, it all turns out shitty. Like, shittier than I could've imagined."

She paused and fiddled with a sprig of pine. "You think I can put Blowjob Queen on my college applications? People put Homecoming Queen and shit, right?"

He snorted out a laugh. "Pretty serious extracurricular."

"Exactly. It'll set me apart from the pack."

A silence fell. He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. "You don't gotta pretend with me, Liv."

She brushed the heel of her hand across her cheek. "It's just so fuckin' lame. I haven't said one word to TJ since the night we broke up, and he just won't let it go. What's the point? I didn't tell anybody what happened. I haven't even tried to deny the thing about the football team. So why keep torturing me?"

"I don't know. I think some people—they just like to see people squirm, ya know? Like, it's not even about revenge. It's just about causing pain. He wants to make you hurt."

She choked out a laugh. "He's doing a really great job."

"Yeah, but he doesn't see it. You never act like it bothers you."

Her face creased. "So, what, I should have a meltdown in the middle of school? Maybe then he'll be happy and leave me alone?"

"Nah, probably not. He'd try to make you have another, bigger meltdown. Then another and another."

"God. I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?"

"I don't know," he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not so bad."

"Hum. Who says I've picked you, Ortiz?"

"Your dad seems to think so."

"My dad doesn't know what he's talking about." She rolled over to face him and propped her head on her hand. "Why didn't you tell me about your mom?"

He winced and wouldn't look at her. "I didn't think you'd want to know."

"Yeah," she said. "I guess I deserve that." She touched his shoulder until he finally turned his head. "I'm sorry. Next time, tell me. I won't get mean. I promise."

"Olivia—"

"I promise," she murmured. She closed the space between them and their mouths met. Soft, sweet, easy; a warm, gentle brush. She pulled away and he grinned at her.

"I was afraid after today you might not want to do that again."

"You handled it with surprising aplomb."

His brow furrowed. "Today, you mean? Because I stopped?"

"Not everybody would've."

"You _told_ me to."

She lifted a brow. "Not everybody would've," she repeated, more firmly.

He flipped onto his side so that they were face to face. "I'm not TJ, Liv," he said.

"I know that. And it's not just a TJ thing. He was just the most obvious about it. Once it reached the stage we were, there are plenty of guys who wouldn't've stopped."

"Those guys are assholes."

"And you're not, right? You're _different_."

"I didn't—I don't know about that. I just know that I never wanna hurt you. I don't want you to ever feel like—I don't know. Like I expect something from you. We're friends first, right? Or we're tryin' to be. If that's all you want, then I'm okay with it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Really?"

He hitched a shoulder. "I didn't say _happy_ about it. But okay with it."

"You surprise me, Ortiz."

He hesitated. "Could you just—could you explain _why_ you told me to stop? Because I thought things were goin' really great, but…"

"They _were_ going great, but I wasn't ready for…okay, so, you know how I was really wet, but I was still, um…pretty tight?"

He shifted a little. "That sorta rings a bell, yeah."

The dimple in her chin flashed, briefly. "That's because I wasn't turned on enough. Look, that whole _loose pussy_ thing guys are always talking about? It's bullshit. Yeah, okay, maybe like right after you have a baby, but otherwise—no. It's a muscle. Like a rubber band. It snaps back into shape."

He peered at her, clearly confused.

"I just mean that if a girl feels sort of loose, like it's easy to…move…then you're doing a good job. If she's tight and you're kind of forcing it in a little? You need to stop with the penis and revisit a few things before you try again." She paused. "Which is not to say—I mean, sometimes—sometimes that's okay. If that's what you're in the mood for. But this morning wasn't one of those times."

"Oh," he said.

"It's not…it's kind of typical, so don't feel bad about it. There's a lot of heat between us, and it makes me wanna go fast, too. I just—I don't want to get distracted by all that and forget that, hey, I'd like to actually come."

He cleared his throat. "I'd like that, too."

She grinned. "I know. And I know that's something that can happen. You know, you're like…cookie dough."

He blinked at her. "Cookie…dough?"

"Yep. I think you just need a little time and you'll be cookies. And everybody likes cookies."

"A lot of people like cookie dough."

"Yeah," she said with a grin, "but it can give you salmonella."

"Wow, Liv. That's some metaphor."

She laughed and kissed his nose. "You're really cute."

He shot her a skeptical look. "Is everything you say calculated to make me feel like a dumbass?"

"No, sugar. Just, like, eighty percent of it."

"Uh huh."

"So," she said and poked him in the shoulder, "how did your chat with Dana go?"

He fell onto his back with a scowl. "I asked her if she was faking."

"Cut right to the chase. What did she say?"

He shifted and glanced at her. Away. "Not every time, but yeah. Sometimes. A lot of the time, I guess."

She pressed her lips to his shoulder. "Don't feel bad, Juicy. Were you taught about a woman's orgasm in health class?"

"No," he said. "Just a guy's, because, ya know. Babies."

"Right. Babies. We're taught that sex is bad and shameful, and the _most_ shameful thing is a _girl_ enjoying it. A movie with a sex scene will get an R rating, but if it shows a woman's orgasm it's instant NC-17. Porn is designed almost exclusively for men: men's fantasies, men's orgasms, _men's_ good times."

He frowned. "There's porn that shows women getting off."

"Yeah. And I'm _sure_ they're not faking it when some dude with a twelve inch dick is fucking the bejeezus out of them. Because God knows bigger outranks subtlety every time."

"Um. It does?"

She swatted his shoulder. "Of course it doesn't! The vibrator I use is about six inches long and only about the circumference of a nickel. And it does the job just fine, thanks."

His eyes went big. "You use a vibrator?"

Her voice softened and her lips moved closer to his ear. "Not always. Sometimes I use my fingers. Or the detachable shower head."

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"TMI?"

"Nooo," he said. "Just not really sure how to process that."

She ran a finger down his arm. "Is that something you think about, Juicy? Me, getting myself off? Because I have to admit I think about _you_."

"You…you do?"

She giggled. His face was red and he could barely lie still. She could see the shape of his erection against his nice trousers. "Does it surprise you to know I masturbate?"

"Well. No. I guess not. I mean, you obviously enjoy sex."

"I do. And until…um…recently, that was basically the only way I could come."

He thought that over a minute. "So is that why you were…I mean, why you and…? Because he made you come?"

"That was the long and short of it, yeah."

"Seriously?"

"I _told_ you it was just sex."

"Yeah, but—"

She let out a huff and rolled her eyes. "You aren't going to get weird, are you?"

"No. I just didn't know girls did that sorta thing."

"That's because it's considered slutty. A guy can have a sex-only type relationship and it's almost expected. A woman does it and she's cheap."

He turned toward her again, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Is that what you want with us? Just sex?"

"I like being your friend. And I like—the way you make me feel. But I told you I can't be your girlfriend. I'm not interested in anything romantic."

He waved a hand around at the trees. "Is this considered romantic?"

Her mouth curved. "Borderline." She paused and rested a hand against his chest. "Look, Juice, I want us to be clear. If you're not into it, that's okay. I won't be offended. You might want something different. I told you the night of Opie's birthday that I like you, and I meant it, but if you want to just be friends without the benefits, that's fine."

"Would it be weird if I said I wasn't into it?"

"No, Juicy. It's your choice. I'm offering; you can decline."

"So it wouldn't be weird if I said I'm totally and completely into it?"

She laughed. "You're an idiot, Ortiz."

"Yeah, yeah. I think you don't want to be my girlfriend just so you can keep saying that."

She pushed him onto his back and moved to straddle his hips. "You don't think I'd say that even if I were your girlfriend?"

"Nope," he said. He rested his hands on her thighs. "You'd have to be nice to me."

"That _is_ me being nice. Surely Ope and Jax warned you."

"They did, actually," he said. "They said it's better not to think of you as a girl."

She looked down at her chest. "Hum."

"I don't think they meant that," he said with a quirk of his mouth. "I think they meant don't…fall for you or anything."

"That's good advice, actually," she said, but her voice was soft and, he thought, sad.

He picked at a string dangling from one of the holes in her jeans. Traced his finger in a circle over the exposed skin. "Can I ask you a really personal question? Personal but not about sex?"

"Um." Her brows drew together, briefly. "Yeah, Juicy. Shoot."

He said it in a rush before he could chicken out. "How did your mom die? I mean, what happened? I know it was a wreck and there was a drunk driver, but…this is a stupid fucking question. What was it like?"

"Ahh…" She glowered and shifted her weight.

"Sorry. Is that too personal?"

"No, it's okay. I'm just trying to think how to answer." She rested her palms against his stomach, but there wasn't anything sexual in the touch at all. It was more like she needed something to ground her.

"It was my thirteenth birthday, and we were on our way to the mall in Stockton. Girls' day out, no dad or anything. Some drunk ran a red-light and hit my side of the car. Knocked us into a telephone pole." Her tone was quiet and matter-of-fact, like she'd repeated it a dozen times.

He winced. "Ouch."

"Yeah. I broke a couple of ribs. My hip. Femur. They had to operate, so they had me knocked out a while. And then they waited…" Her voice thickened and she cleared her throat. "They waited about a week before they told me. They said she'd been killed instantly."

"Is that the scars on your thigh?" He'd noticed in the break room today, but he'd figured that wasn't the best time to comment on them. She rarely wore shorts, and when she wore skirts much shorter than the knee she usually wore tights or high socks like she'd had on today.

"Yep," she said. "Sorry. They're kinda gross."

"Gross? No, don't be stupid. They're fine." He wanted to kiss them. Run his tongue along them and—

"I might get a tattoo to cover them one day. Not the ones down near my knee, but up here." She motioned to her hip and upper thigh. "And maybe on up my ribs."

He blinked, the distracting images in his mind suddenly replaced by different ones. "That would, uh. That would be sexy, I think."

She flashed a teasing grin. "Sexy, huh?"

He ran his hand up her side, where the tattoo would be. "_Really_ sexy."

She leaned down to capture his mouth with hers. Slicked her tongue across his lower lip and nibbled a little. "You tryin' to say I'm not sexy now?"

"You're the sexiest girl I've ever met," he said with complete honesty.

She sat up abruptly, and her face was clouded with disbelief. "Are you just saying that because I'm on top of you?"

"Olivia, come on. You gotta learn to have some faith. Stop bein' so suspicious."

"I'm suspicious by nature."

"I've noticed."

She chewed on her lip a little. "Juice, is your mom really okay?"

"Um…" He looked away. She gently turned his chin back. There were tears in his eyes and suddenly she felt like absolute shit.

"She's really sick, isn't she?"

He gave a wordless nod and she dropped down to lie next to him.

"Tell me," she murmured.

"Cancer," he said. The word stuck in his throat and he had to cough past it and try again.

"Oh, Juicy," she said. She tugged on his shoulder until he turned to face her and she wrapped her arms around him. "Have you told anybody?"

He shook his head. She ran her fingers around the curve of his skull and down the back of his neck. Pressed a kiss to his temple.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered. "What do the doctors say?"

He shrugged and sniffled. "Chemo. I guess they can do surgery? It's breast cancer. They seem pretty hopeful, but would they tell me if they weren't?"

"I don't think they'd straight up lie."

"No?"

"I think they'd be realistic. They wouldn't want to give you false hope, but if they're gonna try chemo and surgery and all that then there's a good chance she could be okay. It's _real_ bad when they say shit like, _do you have your affairs in order?_ and _how do you feel about Tahiti? It might be a good time to go_."

He snorted out a watery laugh. "You can be really nice when you aren't trying to act so tough," he said.

"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. And, seriously, you're the one who said you'd have to _take a number_ to have sex with me."

"Not really my finest moment."

"I'm sorry I slapped you," she said.

"I deserved it."

"You did, but I'm still sorry."

Their eyes met, and a silence fell between them. She'd braided her hair before they got on his bike. He reached behind her to pull the band out and ran both hands through it. The red-gold strands looked dark in the faint moonlight. The scent of mint mingled with the pine and he dipped his head to bury his face in her hair.

"You smell so good it makes me crazy," he mumbled.

"You're not so bad yourself," she said, softly.

He cupped her face with one hand and kissed her long and slow. As the heat started to build he tugged her a little closer. Her hands were braced against his chest, and she could feel the warmth of his skin through the crisp cotton of his shirt. Her body was soft where it brushed his, and he was glad they were both so completely and fully dressed. If she were in a skirt…

"Olivia, listen," he said when they parted. He was out of breath, just a bit. "I want to have sex with you. Maybe as bad as I've ever wanted anything in my life. But I want—I want…I want to make sure you enjoy it. Like, _really_ enjoy it."

"Okay," she said, amusement tilting her mouth.

"You said you'd teach me if I wanted to learn."

"I did say that, didn't I?"

"Uh huh. Did you mean it?"

"I did."

"So what—what does that mean, exactly?"

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not sure. I guess we'd just have to play it by ear." She paused to smile at him. "I can tell you it'll take a while."

"I'm not _that_ bad, am I?"

"No, that's not why." She pushed him onto his back and straddled him again. Started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"Um."

She bent her head and planted a kiss on the exposed skin. "Yes?"

"Why—uh, I mean…why?"

She giggled. "You're so adorable when you're all flustered." She scooted lower and tugged the hem free from his trousers. Unfastened the remaining buttons and kissed his tummy.

"Kind of—hard to concentrate—when you're—what are you doing?"

"I don't know. What would you like me to do?"

Her eyes were steady on his, but he couldn't see their color in the dark. Her lashes were long enough to cast shadows across her cheeks as she looked down again. He lifted his hand to touch her face. Rubbed his thumb across her full mouth.

"You don't gotta do anything, Liv," he said, his voice quiet.

Her lips quirked. "It'll take a while because I want to enjoy it. And, honestly, I think you'll enjoy it too. After all, anticipation is at least half the fun." She unbuckled his belt and he watched her with wide eyes.

"It is?"

"Yep. Like right now. You're wondering what I'm going to do. Am I going to touch your cock, or maybe just tease you? Or will you get _really_ lucky and I suck it? The anticipation's killing you."

"You don't—that would be—amazing, but you don't have to if you don't want."

"You keep saying that like it's news to me." She slid her hands down his pants and squeezed him through his boxer briefs. "I will never, at any point in our acquaintance, do something I don't want to do. I want you to feel the same way. If you want to say no to something, do it. We're in this together."

"Okay," he said on a breath. "I like the sound of that."

"I thought you might," she said. She sighed. "I would feel kinda bad if I left you all hot and bothered twice in one day."

"You did—promise you wouldn't—be mean anymore."

Her grin turned mischievous. "I did, didn't I?" She freed him from his underwear and wrapped her hand around his shaft.

He let out a soft groan. "Fuck, Livvie!"

"What did you do after I left his morning?" She ran the pad of her thumb around the tip in a circle. "Did you just pull your pants up and go about your day?"

He wagged his head back and forth.

She flicked her tongue across the glans. "Tell me," she murmured. A drop of pre-cum had already appeared at the tip, and she lapped it up.

"Uhh…I, uh—jerked off—thinkin'—fuck, babe, that's—thinkin' about you."

"Mmm." She swirled her tongue around and around the ridge without closing her lips around him. "What were you thinking?"

He whimpered at the feel of her breath on his super-sensitive skin. "What if you—came back in. What—would you do?"

She slid the head of his cock between her lips. "Mmhhmm," she said with him in her mouth.

He crushed fists full of pine needles, and their spicy fragrance filled the air. "Thought—you might use your hand—or, or your mouth."

She sucked him in a little deeper. Wiggled her tongue against his shaft.

"Fuck! Shit oh God, Livvie!" He panted and writhed a little. Finally, "Then I thought—maybe you'd just sit down—take off your panties—"

She stroked his balls with one hand as she moved up and down on his cock with long, slow sucks.

"And make yourself come…while I watched…and you watched me."

She lifted her head and raised a brow. Her hand replaced her mouth, and she squeezed him with her fingers. Her lips were swollen and shiny, dark in the faint moonlight. "You liked that idea?" she said.

"Uh huh."

She flashed a pleased smile and brushed her slick mouth against the head. "You wanna come, baby?"

"Please, Livvie. Please!"

"Gonna make it quick, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's good," he said with a desperate nod.

She slid her hand down to grip the base and sucked the head into her mouth again. She moved them in unison: her lips and tongue working the glans, her fingers caressing the shaft. He moaned, his head thrown back and his body bowed with tension. She grinned around him and sucked harder. Moved faster, up and down his spit-slicked cock.

"Fuck yes that's—just like that, baby, oh God that's so fuckin' good I can't—"

Her lips were tight around him, her tongue wiggling and swirling, her hand pumping. So hot and wet, silk and velvet and maybe the best fucking thing he'd ever felt he'd had no _idea_ something could feel so fucking _good_—

"Liv, can't—I'm gonna—!"

She made a low hum of pleasure that he felt like a buzz straight down to his balls. He couldn't hold back any longer, and with a groan and a cry he came. Not quite as hard as that morning, but close, and she swallowed every drop as he jerked in her mouth again and again.

One last flick and she pulled away. He fell back and blinked up at the sky. She stretched out to lay beside him, and he turned to kiss her. He could taste his come on her lips; he'd had no idea that would be such a turn on.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Next time it'll last a lot longer; promise."

He gaped at her. "You're…apologizing? For _that_?"

"Not my best work. I _am_ the Blowjob Queen, after all; a standard must be upheld."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't start that again."

"I'm not completely joking. Obviously I didn't go down on the football team, but I do…" She bit her lip and glanced away. "I enjoy using my mouth."

"Hhhmm." He kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers. "You're never gonna hear me complain about that, Liv."

"Juice—" She suddenly looked worried; vulnerable and afraid.

"What's the matter?" he said.

"I'm not easy. I've had sex with three guys, and you know two of them. The other one was just—" She waved a hand. "I saw a chance and I took it, and then it wasn't worth it."

"I don't think you're easy," he said. She was a bundle of contradictions, this girl. He frowned. "Obviously one of them is, uh—Mr. C. Who—?" His eyes widened a little. "Opie?"

"Good guess."

"Hum. I guess I'm not surprised." He shrugged and fixed his pants. "Asia and Dana for me. But you knew that already."

Her lips twisted. "And were they…I mean, was it…good?"

He chuckled. "It didn't suck, but if you're asking if it compared to anything we've done, the answer is no. You make me nuts, Liv. Never felt anything quite like it."

She smirked in satisfaction. "Good," she said. She stood up and brushed pine needles off her clothes. "Come on, Ortiz. You better get me home before curfew or our little experiment will be dead before it's even really begun."

He scrambled to his feet and buttoned his shirt. They picked their way down the path, and twenty minutes later he parked in front of her house. She hopped off his bike and handed him the helmet.

"I had a good time tonight, Juicy," she said with a smile.

He snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, Liv. Me too."

"I didn't just mean that, but it was fun too."

There was a quiet moment while they watched each other. She hadn't rebraided her hair, and it was wild and windblown down her back. Her cheeks were pinked from the cold, and she looked so pretty he couldn't help but grin at her. She smiled back, because his was contagious, and a tiny voice in the back of her head wondered if this whole thing wasn't a grave miscalculation.

"You need a ride to school? Since your dad took the car."

"Nah," she said. "He'll let me drive his truck. Thanks, though." Fuck that voice. Things didn't _always_ turn out shitty, and he was pretty great when he wasn't fucking it up. She leaned closer and kissed him, long and sweet. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yep," he said. "Night."

"Night, Juicy." She hurried up the front path and inside, and once he saw the door shut behind her he drove away, still grinning like an idiot. He might even have been whistling.

* * *

_Part of me wants to shake some sense into Olivia and the other part of me's like, "it's okay bb I understand!"_

_Comments? Thoughts? Opinions? Jot em down in the little box to the right and hit the button! :D_


	18. Feeling

A little comeuppance. A little sadness. A little fun. This chapter's got it all, really.

* * *

**and honey please don't stop ****your talking**  
**'cause there's a feeling**  
**won't leave me alone**  
David Gray, "Nightblindness"

It had been three days since the incident with the flyers, and Olivia was tense with waiting. It had been quiet, enough so to make her nervous. Maybe Presbo had finally cracked some heads? Or maybe people were just over-saturated with this nonsense and had decided she didn't make a fun target anymore.

Neither of those options felt quite right, though. And if the latter were true, it would probably only prompt TJ to come up with something new.

"I miss the Cougar," Tara said as she climbed up into the truck.

Olivia snorted. "Me too, kid."

"Did he say how long he's gonna keep it, or is it an indefinite thing?"

She hitched a shoulder. "God knows. Probably until I leave for college—_if_ I manage not to have sex between now and then."

"Good luck with that," Tara said with a snicker. "Any news on the Juice Ortiz front?"

Olivia had told her about the other night, including the details of their conversation. Except, that is, the stuff about Juice's mom, because Olivia was pretty sure he wanted to keep that a secret. Now she shook her head.

"Dad got the guilts, I guess, and decided to take the rest of the week off work. I've been stickin' close to home."

"When does he go back?"

"Tomorrow. He wanted the weekend, too, but you have to ask for those further in advance."

"Soo I guess that means school's back in session Friday night," Tara said.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Why don't you pay attention to your own love life and leave mine to me?"

"You make a _mess_ of your love life when left to your own devices, Gable."

She scowled but conceded the point. She pulled into her parking spot and the growling engine subsided into quiet. "Ahh," Olivia said, a noise of relief.

"You know, the Cougar's pretty fucking loud, too."

"A hacking cough is not the same as my baby's throaty purr," she said, offended.

"That was amazingly sexual."

Olivia shrugged and hopped out. "If men can talk about their cars like they wanna fuck 'em, so can I."

"Hey, Gable!" a voice said from across the lot. She turned her head to find the speaker: it was that grabby guy from her chem lab. "Nice ride, baby!" he called.

Her mouth twisted. "Funny, from what I hear that's what Tig Trager said to your mom just the other night."

"What the—?" He started toward her, but his buddy grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him toward the building.

"Holy shit, Ollie," Tara said as she muffled a laugh.

"Yeah, I'm kinda done. At this point I sort of hope they fuck with me."

The guys' motorcycles rumbled in, all in a group, and kids scattered. Tara planted a smacking kiss on Jax, and Olivia and Juice shared quiet smiles.

"Where's your girl, Winston?" Olivia said.

He grimaced. "Sick," he said.

"Uh oh," said Tara. "Hope she's okay."

"I think it's just a cold. If one of you guys could take her her work that'd be awesome."

"Sure, I'll do it," Olivia said. "I'm off this afternoon."

By that time they were inside. These days she braced herself before walking in, afraid she'd find the halls wallpapered with her private life again, but as it had been all week, everything seemed normal.

Tara hooked her free arm through Opie's. "Walk me to my locker, boys. I do declare I might need help carryin' all my big heavy books," she said in a thick Southern accent. Then, over her shoulder, "See you in homeroom, Ollie."

Olivia's mouth quirked. "Subtle, Knowles," she muttered. She watched them go with a shake of her head.

Juice cleared his throat and she pivoted toward him. "Hi," he said.

Her expression softened into a smile. "Hey."

"I guess holding hands in the hall would be considered romantic, huh?"

She nudged him with her shoulder and he fell in step beside her. "Would sort of blow our cover."

"Yep. So I guess I'll have to settle for checkin' you out when I think you're not looking."

"You and everybody else," she said, but she grinned as she said it, and it lacked the sting of most days.

He leaned against the locker next to hers and watched her work the combination. "I miss you," he said, softly.

Color touched her cheeks. "Me too," she murmured. She cut her eyes up at him. "Come over tomorrow after school. My dad will be back at work."

"Yeah?" he said on a breath.

"Mmhhmm."

"You need me to bring anything?"

She gave him a weird look. "Like what?" she said. She opened her locker. "A…" Her voice trailed off as an avalanche of condoms poured out. A rueful smile twisted her mouth. "Notebook?" she finished.

TJ, John, and a few of their buddies had been watching from across the hall, and now they burst out in a chorus of sniggers. "Oh, look," TJ said. "Olivia's got her day's supply of rubbers ready to go."

Juice stiffened, but Olivia glanced at him and he relaxed a little. She knelt and retrieved one of them. It had a black label, and big gold letters proclaimed MAGNUM and XXL. She sauntered toward TJ and held it up between two fingers.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" she said. Her eyes raked him from head to toe, and her lips curved in a sweet smile. "Couldn't find any in _your_ size?"

John cackled, and the other guys joined in with nervous chuckles. TJ's face began to turn red.

She leaned a little closer and her voice dropped to an intimate caress. "Don't worry, baby. I know some well-hung biker boys who can make good use of these."

He went crimson, and he moved so fast she didn't have a chance to dodge. His fingers closed around her throat. He spun her around and shoved her against the lockers hard enough to knock her breathless. Stars appeared in front of her eyes when he squeezed.

"Whoa, man!" John said. "That's not—"

But then Juice was there. He wrenched TJ by the shoulder, and his grip around her neck loosened. Juice slugged him across the mouth and TJ spun away. Olivia drew in hard gulps of air through her aching windpipe. A crowd had already formed around them, and she felt their eyes like prodding needles.

"Juice, stop!" she wheezed. "John, get TJ!"

"You fuckin' her, Ortiz?" TJ said with a sneer. "She like Puerto Rican cock now?"

He swung his fist and caught Juice in the jaw. He staggered but recovered fast.

Juice yanked him closer by the shirt and punched him again. "Yeah, asshole. I guess she does."

John wrapped both arms around TJ's shoulders from underneath and hauled him back before he could hit Juice again. "You'll get cut, man. He ain't worth it."

The school had a zero tolerance policy for athletes fighting: if they got caught brawling on school grounds they'd get cut from that semester's sports. TJ played lacrosse in the spring.

"I always knew you were a whore, Olivia," TJ spat. "I just didn't know you were a _dirty_ whore."

Blood streamed from his nose and stained his teeth. His lip was split and his eye was already beginning to swell. He looked feral and furious, and even John was giving him the side-eye.

"Must sting, TJ," she said, pitching her voice so that it carried over the crowd. "I mean, I've fucked _so many guys_, but the closest I got to your tiny little prick was when I kneed you in the balls the night I dumped you."

He surged against John's hold, and he might have broken free, but a voice interrupted them.

"All _right_! That is _enough_!"

Presbo elbowed his way through the crowd and glared around at them. "Ortiz, Flanary, Patric, Olivia—my office. _Now_!"

John winced and let go of TJ. "We're fucked," he muttered under his breath.

They trooped that way amidst whistles and catcalls that ceased at one strong scowl from Presbo. Olivia let her arm brush Juice's as they walked, and his fingers curled to caress her palm. She ducked her head to hide a smile.

Olivia had to wait in the outer office while TJ, John, and Juice got the third degree from Presbo. She fidgeted in her seat and strained to hear what was going on behind the closed door. It was hopeless, though, especially when his assistant fired up the electric pencil sharpener. She had plenty of experience thwarting eavesdropping students.

Olivia rolled her eyes and slumped back in the chair. If TJ got cut from lacrosse Olivia might never hear the end of it. What would he do? She thought he'd lost a few points today: a lot of the crowd had seen how he grabbed her, and her last comment about kneeing him had made waves.

The office door opened and Presbo waved her inside. "Olivia, if you please."

She rose and wiped her palms on her jeans. He shut the door behind her, and the office felt tiny with the five of them filling it. TJ was clearly furious; Juice looked annoyed; John seemed worried.

Mr. Presbo walked around to sit behind his desk and fixed her with a patient look. The desk was almost entirely clear except for two things that made her wince when she saw them: a small pile of condoms, and a flyer that was all too familiar.

"I'm hearing conflicting accounts of what happened in the hall. I'm sure you can understand how difficult that makes my job. I'm hoping you can shed light on a few things."

The look TJ gave her was pure poison. There was a challenge in his eyes: he was daring her to rat him out. She glanced at Juice, and he offered a brief, supportive smile.

Olivia had no pangs of conscience as she made her decision.

"Someone stuffed a bunch of condoms in my locker. Not the first time, but there usually aren't quite so many." She cleared her throat around the pain and hitched a shoulder. "I made a comment to TJ, and he took it personally. Grabbed me around the neck and threw me against a locker."

Presbo frowned. "Is this true, Theodore?" He never used nicknames for anyone, and it was weird to hear him call TJ by his full name.

"I never laid a hand on her."

Olivia smiled. "The bruises on my neck would beg to differ."

He motioned her closer and examined her neck with a critical eye. "Hhmm," he said. "That's going to be nasty in an hour or so. Go see the nurse when we're done here. What happened next?"

"Um." She frowned a little. "John tried to stop him, but then Juice pulled him off me and hit him in the face. They threw a few punches, and then John grabbed TJ."

"Is that how you remember it, Juan Carlos?" he said to Juice.

She smothered a smile. Well. One mystery solved.

"That's what I tried to tell you," Juice said. He had a bruise starting at the corner of his mouth, but otherwise it was clear TJ had gotten the worst of it. "He attacked Olivia and I was stoppin' him."

"He hit me first!" TJ said.

Presbo cast him a look of distaste. "It sounds like _you_ hit _Olivia_ first." He paused and steepled his fingers. "Gentlemen, I am aware of the issues here, and I'm only going to say this once: it's _done_. Do you hear me, Theodore? Juan Carlos? No more. You, Theodore, will quit harassing Olivia. No more prophylactics in her locker. No more—" He made a gesture toward the flyer.

"Whatever happened, it's over and done. Score settled. Are we clear?"

"Mr. Presbolowski—"

He made a sharp gesture to cut TJ off. "Are. We. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," Juice mumbled.

"Crystal," John said with a wide-eyed nod.

"Theodore?" Presbo prompted when TJ stayed quiet.

"Fine. Whatever. We're clear."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Olivia, thank you for your assistance. Go see Ms. Parker now."

She opened her mouth to protest—she wanted to know what he was going to do to TJ and Juice—but one look stopped her. "Thank you, sir," she said and spun on her heel.

When the door shut, he glanced at John. "You may go as well. Two days' after school detention, but otherwise I think you've learned your lesson, Mr. Patric."

"Yes, sir," he said. "Thank you, Mr. Presbolowski." He bolted from the office, feeling lucky to still be on the lacrosse team. Presbo could easily have cut him.

The principal cleared his throat and eyed Juice and TJ. "Well, gentlemen, what should I do with you two?"

TJ started to speak, but he held up a hand. "That was a rhetorical question, Theodore. As you both know—even you, Juan Carlos, despite being new here—I don't tolerate fighting at my school. I'm concerned about your behavior regarding Olivia Gable, Theodore, and while I appreciate Juan Carlos' intentions, the fact is there were better ways to handle it."

"Bitch deserved worse," TJ muttered.

Presbo lifted a brow. "A young man with that sort of attitude is not someone I believe should be representing this school. You're hereby banned from all sports teams, and disqualified from any school honors such as Prom Court, valedictorian, or senior superlatives."

TJ spluttered. "Mr. Presbolowski, you can't do that! I'm a senior—"

"I'm well aware, Theodore. As such you've already been accepted to college, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"And you're hardly in need of financial aid." He waved TJ's objections away. "You're suspended for two weeks, and if I hear one more word, one more _whisper_, of you bothering Olivia Gable—or any young lady at this school—again, you're expelled. I don't care who your father is, young man."

Someone knocked on the door, and Presbo called for them to enter. Paul Castillo, the school security guard stepped into the office.

"Ah, good, just in time. Please escort Mr. Flanary here to his locker to gather whatever he needs, and then see him to his car. Thank you, Paul."

TJ was speechless, incandescent with fury. "When I tell my father about this, you'll be done here, Presbo. Career _over_."

He blinked mildly. "Do you think you or your father scare me, Theodore? I walked a beat in LA for ten years before I went back to school to get my master's in education. My best day saw worse than you."

Castillo grinned and gestured for TJ to proceed him. "After you, Flanary," he said.

Juice let out a long breath as they disappeared. "That was cool," he said.

"Don't think you're off the hook, Mr. Ortiz. I meant what I said about how you handled the situation: it was poorly done."

"I'm not sorry. I'd punch him again if you gave me half a chance. He's been beggin' for it since before break."

Presbo made a low noise that might have indicated agreement. "Be that as it may, I'm going to have to suspend you as well. One week, effective immediately."

Juice's head dropped, but it was better than he'd been expecting.

"I hope I don't have to call Mr. Castillo back to collect you."

"No, sir," he said. "I'm goin'."

"Very good. Oh, and Juan Carlos? Please make sure Jackson Teller and Harry Winston understand the consequences of continuing this conflict. I won't be so lenient next time."

"Yes, sir," he said, keeping his eyes down. "Can I go now?"

"You're dismissed. I'll see you this time next week, Mr. Ortiz."

Juice gave a nod and fled without a backwards glance. He was only suspended for a week. That was bad enough, because his mom was gonna be real mad, but TJ was out for two. Plus kicked off lacrosse and all that other shit. Despite Presbo's threats to expel him if he messed with Olivia again, Juice knew TJ wouldn't be able to just let his slide.

He had to get word to Jax and Opie to keep an eye on her, because security guard or no, Juice didn't trust TJ as far as _Olivia_ could throw him.

* * *

"A week, huh?" she said with a frown of commiseration.

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Coulda been worse. TJ got two, and banned from—like, everything."

"He's gonna be pissed as fuck."

"I know. That's why I don't want you goin' anywhere alone. He took that picture, or he had someone take it. He knows your schedule and he obviously knows your car."

Olivia had gone by Donna's to drop off her homework, and she'd swung by TM to pick Juice up after his shift. His mom had taken away the motorcycle for the length of his suspension; it probably would've been worse, but when Juice told her what had been going down with TJ she relented a little.

Now they were sitting in Olivia's dad's old blue pickup at the lookout spot where she and Tara liked to smoke. It was on SAMCRO-owned land, so you could usually count on it to be deserted. Dusk had fallen, and the stars were starting to appear in the sky. She had to get home soon for dinner—and get Juice home, because suddenly he had a curfew—but they had a little while longer.

"What're you gonna do, Ortiz?" she said, her mouth curving in a teasing smile. "Take up residence in my bedroom closet?"

His head tilted. "There's an idea."

"Hmm. I'm sure a peeping tom charge would be a fantastic addition to your permanent record."

"I'm sixteen. Juvie records are sealed."

She scooted along the bench seat and he draped his arm around her. She leaned into him, her head fitting perfectly into that flat plane where chest started to become shoulder. His hand dangled in front of her, and she lifted it to get a closer look. His knuckles were raw and scraped.

"I'm not gonna apologize, Liv," he said. He freed himself from her grip and ran a finger down her bruised neck. "He hurt you. What if you hadn't been in public? If he loses control like that in the fuckin' hall in front of half the school—" He broke off and clenched his jaw.

"Juicy, it's okay. I'm not gonna ask you to. I hate that you're suspended, but seeing him get punched in the face was like…it made my _year_. I'm not kidding. I had no idea how bad I wanted that to happen until it did."

His mouth quirked. "Yeah. I know that feeling."

"You've been wanting to hit him for a long time."

He grinned and turned her face up to his. "That's not what I meant."

"Careful, Ortiz," she murmured. "One _might_ construe this as a romantic moment."

"I think I'll take the chance," he said. His mouth closed over hers and she pressed a little closer. The kiss deepened, and he made a soft noise of pleasure as her tongue brushed his.

She pulled away with a reluctant sigh. "Sorry, babe. Gonna have to take a raincheck on second base. If I'm late for dinner my dad might have some sort of fit."

He settled back against the seat and buckled his seatbelt. "Any chance on second base tomorrow night?"

"Maybe," she said. "Maybe not."

"You're killin' me, Gable," he said.

"Oh, baby." She patted his cheek and smiled, slow and sexy. "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

When they got to Juice's apartment complex his mom's car wasn't in the lot.

"You want me to wait?" Olivia said. "Make sure everything's okay?"

"Um. Yeah, just hang on a sec. I'll run upstairs and see if she left a note."

"Sure."

He hopped out, and she watched as he took the stairs two at a time and let himself in to their second floor apartment. A moment later he reappeared, and she couldn't quite decipher the look on his face. He climbed in the truck again and handed her a piece of paper.

Her mouth fell open as she read it. "Is this a joke?"

"I don't think so," he said.

"Holy shit."

"You think it's an intervention?"

"About what?" She put the truck in gear and turned out onto the street. "Yeah, you and TJ got into a fight, but it wasn't like he didn't deserve it. I thought your mom was more or less okay about it."

"She was. Maybe they finally decided to go out."

"Hum."

"Yeah."

She paused and drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. "Would that be the end of the world? Really? If they just went on a few dates, I mean. Your mom seems really nice, and my dad hasn't dated anyone since my mom died."

He hitched a shoulder. "I guess it'd be okay. Except…what would it mean for you and me?"

"_You and me_ you and me, or you and me _us_?"

"The second one."

She bit her lip and pulled over to park in front of her house. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"You already don't wanna be my girlfriend. Can't imagine bein' my stepsister would improve anything."

"Don't say the _s_ word, Ortiz. I've already done one taboo relationship this year; I don't need a second one."

"Maybe we're overreacting anyway."

"Probably."

"Sooner we go in, sooner we'll know."

They both got out of the truck and met in front of the hood. He wanted to kiss her, but their parents might be watching them right now. Together. From inside Olivia's house. Where the four of them were about to sit down to dinner. Together.

"Olivia," he said.

"Hhmm?"

"Whatever happens in there, you should know I'll still want to have sex with you."

She burst out laughing. "Thanks for the update, Juicy. Come on, before they start wondering what's taking so long."

* * *

It turned out to be only a mildly big deal: they wanted to have a chat with Juice and Olivia because they were concerned about Juice's suspension and TJ Flanary's behavior. Juice assured them both it had been an isolated incident, and he was taking Presbo's warning about continuing the feud seriously.

For her part, Olivia promised her father that she would be careful, and she wouldn't go anywhere alone. It seemed like a perfect excuse for her to spend way more time with Juice than her dad might normally like, so it was an agreement she was happy to make.

It didn't seem to either of them that their parents were interested in each other in a romantic way. There were no lingering glances or accidental touches. They were polite with each other, friendly, but not overly so. As everyone said goodnight they exchanged looks that promised further investigation, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Olivia dragged her dad into the living room and sat him down.

"Are you and Ms. Ortiz dating or not?"

"Pumpkin—"

"I have a right to know, Daddy. If you're going to be involved with my friend's mom, you should tell me. I'm not trying to pry, I just—I want to prepare myself."

He gave her a long look. "Are you and Juice dating?"

"No. I told you. We're just friends."

"Uh huh. And yet he took a one-week suspension because he got in a fight to defend your honor."

"Jax or Opie would've done the same thing if they'd been there. You know that, Dad."

He conceded the point with raised hands. "I enjoy Ana's company, and I'd like to think she enjoys mine, but no. We aren't dating, and we have no plans to be." He leaned closer and tapped her knee. "Is this about your mom, sweetheart?"

"Dad." She made a face and looked away. "It's been four years."

"That's a long time in real life, but in since-your-mother-was-killed time it's not, really."

She turned back with a wary expression. "_Is_ it about Mom, Dad? Because you know if you wanted to start dating I'd be okay with it. You can't—"

She broke off and bit her lip. Cleared her suddenly thick throat and winced at the pain. "We can't mourn her forever, Daddy. We've gotta move on eventually."

"I know, baby," he said, his voice soft with compassion. "And I will. But not yet."

A tear rolled down her cheek and she didn't bother to wipe it away. "Does it make me a bad person if I say I'm…actually really glad to hear that?"

"No, sweetheart." He held out his arms and she fell into them. He kissed the top of her head and let her cry. "She was your mom, Ollie. You're _supposed_ to miss her. I miss her every day. I wouldn't get involved with anyone without talking to you about it first. We're a family, right?"

She managed a nod and rubbed the back of her hand over her cheek. "I don't want to be that guy. The kid who thinks they run their parent's life."

"Olivia," he said, his tone dry, "if you're under some sort of impression you _don't_ run my life, then you're not nearly as perceptive as I thought you were."

"Funny. I see where I get my sense of humor."

He just shook his head and hugged her. Finally he said, "I can't believe that boy hurt you today. In the middle of school."

"I'm okay, Dad," she said around her sniffles.

"You might not've been, Ollie. If you'd been alone with him—"

She pulled away and frowned up at him. "Do you really think I'd be that stupid? I'm not going to underestimate TJ Flanary. Trust me."

"You're not stupid, but things happen."

"We already had this conversation, remember? No going anywhere alone. Keep my eyes open. Make sure I tell the guys at TM what's going on so they can watch out for him, too."

"All right, smartass," he said. He hesitated a moment, and she eyed him.

"What?" she said.

He sighed. "I know you say you and Juice are just friends—"

"We are. I have no interest in dating anyone right now. Not with everything that's going on."

"Understandable," he said. "Have you told him that?"

"Yes. He knows exactly where I stand, and he's okay with it. Why?"

He shrugged. "I can tell he cares about you a lot, that's all. And you seem to care about him."

"I care about all my friends, Daddy," she said, struggling to keep her voice even.

"I know that, pumpkin. It just seems like you and Juice—"

"Dad," she said, "please stop. I know you mean well, but it's fine. Juice and I are fine. We've talked about—about all of this. Neither of us wanted any misunderstandings."

"That's very mature of you both."

"You sound surprised."

His brow quirked in acknowledgement. "Most adults I know are seldom so good at communicating."

She tangled her fingers together and stared down at them. "I guess—I guess I like him, you know? And I don't want to mislead him or make him think—that something's going to happen that isn't. Better to be upfront, right? That way no one gets hurt."

"Right," he said with a slow nod. "No one gets hurt." He smiled and ruffled her hair. "Go do your homework, pumpkin. Remember I go back to work tomorrow, so I won't be here when you get home from school. Is it Tara's day to drive?"

"Yep, so I'll get a ride home from her, then I'll come straight inside and lock all the doors and windows. Barricade the place like the Huns are invading." She didn't mention that Juice was coming over; they'd talked about him enough for one night.

"That's my girl."

She kissed his cheek and hurried to her room. Shut the door behind her and leaned against it. She hadn't lied to him. Not really. Okay, maybe she should've asked if Juice could come over tomorrow, but she didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

About what, exactly? That his daughter had no interest in being a nice boy's girlfriend, but she was perfectly willing to—

She cut that thought off and took a deep breath. They weren't having sex tomorrow anyway, and she didn't want her dad worrying about it. And he would, especially in light of the whole Mr. Collins debacle.

Her mouth curved as she wandered toward the bed. Her dad didn't get off work until two AM. She wondered how late Juice's mom would let him stay out. Surely till at least midnight; that was Olivia's weekend curfew, and Juice was a _boy_. A boy who'd just gotten suspended for a week, but still.

She threw herself on the mattress and grinned. Olivia hoped Juice was as eager to learn as she was to teach him, because it was practically all she'd been thinking about since the other night. The way he'd told her he missed her in the hall today before it all went to hell…the intensity in his eyes and that low, rough pitch of his voice…

She closed her eyes and bit her lip. Wiggled out of her jeans and slid a hand into her panties. She wasn't going to get any homework done while she was feeling so wound up distracted. She let out a soft sigh as her fingers found her clit.

"Juan Carlos," she murmured, imagining herself whispering it in his ear as he touched her like this. She wished she hadn't left his jacket in the hall closet; she wanted to wrap up in it and smell him on her skin.

She'd tell him about this tomorrow. Watch his pupils get big and that little line form between his brows; his mouth go all soft and loose, his lips just waiting for her to nibble on them as she caught his moans. Speaking of—she bit down on her fingers as she tried to keep quiet, but that only made her think of other things she'd recently had in her mouth.

But then her phone rang. She let out a curse. Who the fuck was calling her this late? There were only a couple of options, and they all seemed important enough to actually answer. She checked the caller ID and a wicked grin split her face.

"Hi there," she said, still smiling.

"Hey. Sorry. Is it too late?" he said.

"Nope." Her voice dropped into a silky purr. "As a matter of fact I was just thinking about you."

"You—you were?" he said.

"Yep. I could tell you all about it, if you want, or we could just wait until tomorrow."

"Ahh…shit." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Lowered his voice until he was almost whispering. "I really. Really. _Really_ want to hear about it, but I don't have a phone in my room, so I'm kinda in the kitchen."

"Mmm, too bad. Tomorrow, then?"

"Uh huh." He paused. "Are you—right now? Or did you stop to answer the phone?"

"I stopped to answer, but—" Her hand drifted back down between her legs. "Let's just say it was a brief pause."

"Goddamn, Livvie," he rasped.

She laughed, a low ripple. "Was there a reason you were calling, Ortiz? Or did you just want to hear my voice?"

"Uh—no, I had—um. I just wanted to tell you since I won't see you at school tomorrow that I've got a shift at TM until six. I'll be over after that…if it's okay."

"Sounds good," she said. She was starting to get a little breathless.

"Fuck. I gotta hang up now."

"So soon?" she murmured.

"Liv—"

"Just talk to me, Juicy," she said. "About anything."

He breathed a ragged sigh. "Um. Back, uh, back in Queens I used to get in trouble a lot. I used to do homework for some of the kids at fifty bucks a pop, and one day I got caught because I fucked up and gave some guy an English paper for his history class."

"Uh huh," she said, almost a moan. "Go on," she urged.

He paused to savor the sound of her quiet little gasps. He thought maybe a different tack was in order. "Do you like ice cream, Livvie?"

"Ice cream? Yeah. S'yummy." The sound of his voice was making her crazy—low and sexy and just _Juice_. She slid two fingers into her wet, aching cunt with a soft sigh.

"Real yummy. I love an ice cream cone on a hot day. Like in the middle of summer, you know?"

Her breath hitched and took on a new cadence. "It drips."

"Uh huh. And you gotta catch all those drips, but sometimes it kinda gets outta control. Ice cream's all runnin' down your fingers and the back of your hand, and you're like chasin' it down your arm."

"Licking," she said on a hard gasp. She pressed the heel of her palm against her clit and rocked up into her hand. "Don't stop, baby. Please!" she whispered.

"Exactly. Licking. So you lick faster, to stop it from dripping, but it's so hot you can't keep up. There's ice cream everywhere, and you've got a big sticky mess all over your hands and your face."

"Fuck!" she breathed. "Fuck, Juicy, that's it!"

"But you can't stop licking just because you're makin' a mess. You gotta keep going, right, because otherwise you wasted a whole bunch of yummy ice cream. So you're licking and sucking and like lapping everywhere, every little drip, hoping you can finish it off. And it's just so sweet and good, and it's so hot, and you don't ever wanna stop eating it."

"Oh God yes, baby, yes!" She bit down hard on the hand holding the phone to muffle a cry as the orgasm hit. Her body arched and the climax rolled through her in burst after burst, hot and delicious and intoxicating.

He gritted his teeth hard enough to hurt as he listened to her wordless whimpers and soft, heated moans. His cock was throbbing, begging for a little relief, and the feel of it rubbing against his underwear was driving him nuts.

"Well," she said when she finally had her breath back, "I don't think I'll ever feel quite the same way about ice cream."

"Me neither," he said on a laugh.

"I'll miss seeing you at school tomorrow."

"I know. But, hey, it'll be six before you know it and we'll have the whole evening to just—hang out."

"Right," she said. "Hang out and eat ice cream."

He made a funny strangled sort of noise. "I really gotta hang up now."

She smirked. "Moan my name when you come, baby."

"Ha. I always do, these days."

"Mmmm. I'll remember you said that."

He huffed out a breath. "Liv, about tomorrow—"

"No sex, Ortiz. Not yet."

"Fuck, that's okay." His voice dropped even further. "I'll finger you, baby. Eat you out. Whatever you want. You don't have to do anything for me. I just wanna—I wanna see you come in person."

"Go to bed, Juan Carlos. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Night, Liv."

"Night, Juicy. And thanks."

"Uh huh," he said, half-laughing. "No problem."

She hung up, her lips twisted in a grin.

Suddenly she was looking forward to tomorrow night more than ever.

* * *

_I really have no comments for this section for once; I just like continuity._

_I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story. Let's hope that continues, yeah? :) (that sounded vaguely threatening. sorry.)_


	19. Fake a Smile

We're almost 100k words into it at this point, so if you're not enjoying now might be a good time to bail. ;)

But either way I love hearing from you guys. So let's carry on...

* * *

**what has he done my señorita?**  
**his kind of love is going to kill you**  
**do you fake a smile when you dodge the blows?**  
**so many times so many chances**  
**this one could be your last**  
Better Than Ezra, "Rosealia"

Either Opie or Jax were glued to her side the entire day, and it was exhausting. One of them walked her to class, and then the other one was waiting for her when the bell rang. She wondered how they got out of their classes so fast, but she decided not to ask.

They were at lunch when John Patric approached their table. He looked sheepish and nervous, and Jax and Opie fixed him with killer death glares.

"What the fuck you want?" Jax said.

He ducked his head a moment before he raised it again and met Olivia's eyes. "Ollie—"

"No," Opie said. As usual his voice was perfectly calm, and John's face paled. "You don't speak to her. You don't _look_ at her. You sure as _fuck_ don't call her _Ollie_."

She touched his arm. "It's okay, Ope. What's up, John?"

He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked away. "Listen, I just—what TJ did yesterday was fucked up. What he said, too."

She lifted a brow. "What he said _yesterday_, or what he said when he started the rumor about my after-school activities with the football team? Tell me, John, did you enjoy your blowjob? It's funny because I have literally _no_ memory of your dick."

"Hard to remember what don't exist," Jax said under his breath.

John ignored him and stayed focused on Olivia. "I should've said something, but do you really think it would've done any good? If people want to believe that shit, they're going to."

"Right," she said. She rubbed her forehead. "Forget it. Whatever. Is that it?"

"You need to be careful, Olivia," he said after a moment. "TJ was…he was crazy yesterday. He came over to my place and he was screamin' and throwin' shit. He blames you for the whole thing."

"Doesn't surprise me."

"How about you let us worry about Olivia?" Opie said. "You keep to your side; we'll keep to ours. Ain't that the way it is?"

"Yeah, man," he said with a snort. "I guess it is. See ya around, Ollie."

He walked away and Olivia shook her head. "I don't even have the energy to be mad at him."

"Don't worry," Tara said. "I've got enough for both of us."

"Keep those nail scissors handy, babe. Might need 'em after all."

"I'm your girl."

Olivia shoved at Opie's shoulder, but he was like a boulder. "Move," she said.

"What?"

"I gotta pee, Ope. Get outta my way. And for fuck's sake, stay here. I can pee all by myself."

"I'll go with you," Tara said.

Olivia flicked her fingers. "Everyone please just stay here. I need five minutes alone before my brain explodes."

Opie slid out of the booth with a reluctant frown. She squeezed his shoulder as she went by, and all three of them watched her until she disappeared around the corner.

"She _just_ got warned to watch out for TJ, and she's runnin' off by herself?" Opie said.

"And we're letting her?" said Jax.

"TJ's banned from campus for two weeks," Tara said.

"That don't make me feel much better," Opie mumbled as he went back to his tater tots.

Olivia, for her part, was grateful to escape. She knew her friends meant well, but they were driving her nuts. She hated feeling trapped. She pushed into the girls' room and shooed everyone out. They left with little snickers and nasty glares, and once the place was empty she wedged the door shut and slumped against the sinks.

It was quiet, and after a moment Olivia noticed a small sniffling sound coming from one of the stalls. She froze. She hadn't checked them. Like an idiot. Someone was clearly still here, and it sounded like they were crying.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She should walk out. Leave right now and forget that some girl was camped out in the bathroom having a cry. Hell, this was high school. Girls probably cried in the bathroom more than they peed.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingertips. Sidled closer to the stall and tapped on it. "Hey," she said, quietly, "are you okay?"

"Go away."

Olivia's brow creased. "Katie?"

"Goddammit." The stall door swung open and Katie Adams glared out at her through red, puffy eyes—and the beginnings of a nasty shiner on the right side.

"Holy shit, Katie, you get hit with a volleyball in gym or something?"

"As if you care!"

"You're right. I don't care. Have a nice day." She spun on her heel, but Katie's voice stopped her.

"Wait. Olivia, wait."

She stopped. _Don't turn around_, she told herself. _Just keep walking_. She wasn't worth it. She didn't deserve it. But Olivia felt a weird gnawing in her stomach, and she knew if she walked away now she'd regret it. She turned back slowly, her expression wary.

"It wasn't a volleyball," Katie muttered.

Olivia swallowed. "I can't imagine that John would slug you in the face."

She shook her head. Olivia let out a hard sigh and reached past her to rip a handful of toilet paper from the dispenser. She handed it to her, and Katie accepted with a sniff.

"Everybody knows TJ's got a bad temper. It's kind of legendary. I should've known better. I should've just kept my mouth shut."

"Katie, whatever happened it's not your fault. It's his. _Only_ his. He's the asshole here."

She nodded toward the scarf around Olivia's neck. "You wearing that because of him?"

She fiddled with it. "Yep."

"I heard—back when he and Dana went out freshman year she came to school with a split lip one day. She told everybody she fell ice skating."

"Ice skating?"

Katie shrugged. "Better than telling the truth."

"Jesus." She propped against the sinks again and motioned Katie closer. "Come here."

"What for?" she said, suspiciously.

"We need to get you cleaned up before you go out there, and lunch is almost over."

"Oh." She shuffled closer. Olivia grabbed a paper towel and wet it. Squeezed out the excess water and pressed it gently against Katie's face.

"You should really go to the nurse and get some ice for this. It's gonna swell like crazy otherwise."

Her eyes darted toward the door. "I don't—if people see—"

Olivia smiled a little. "You've got a makeup bag, right? I'd offer mine but our coloring isn't super similar."

Katie pointed back toward the stall and Olivia grabbed her backpack off the hook.

"May I?"

She nodded and didn't take the paper towel away from her eyes. Olivia dug through her stuff and emerged with a pink makeup bag covered in little gold stars. She traded Katie the wet lump of paper for some dry ones, and she dried her face.

"We'll camouflage long enough to get us to the nurse's office, and then you can camp out there next period. Maybe for the rest of the day."

She unscrewed the cap on a pot of concealer and carefully dabbed around Katie's eye. She flinched. "Sorry," Olivia said. "Sorry."

"It's okay." She took a deep breath. "I can't believe you're being so nice to me."

"High school's a shitty place, Katie. We make it even worse when we let boys tell us we should hate each other. You didn't like me because I was dating TJ, right? That's a stupid reason. Hate me because you—I don't know—have some weird thing against mechanics or because I stole your last cookie. Don't hate me because of a _guy_. We're better than that."

"We?" she said.

"Girls, Katie. Women. We gotta stick together because assholes like TJ are a dime a dozen. If we don't have each other, what've we got?"

"I never thought he'd do something like this. I mean, the things he said about you—and the flyer—that was pretty shitty, but the way he attacked you yesterday? And now…" She trailed off and her fingers fluttered toward her face. "He's out of control."

Olivia tried to suppress a grimace. Yeah, he was out of control when it impacted _Katie_. That wasn't a fair thought, though, and she shoved it aside. "We could go to the cops if you wanted," she said. "Between my neck and your face, plus everyone who saw what he did yesterday…we would have enough to press charges."

Katie snorted and then winced. "Yeah, no. He'd get out on bail in two seconds and kill us both."

The scary part was she wasn't exaggerating by much. "I can see about getting you some protection if you want."

She made a face. "You mean those bikers you hang out with all the time? No thanks. My dad would have a _stroke_." She paused and her expression turned thoughtful. "You know, on the other hand, that's not a bad idea."

"A biker boyfriend is a really good way to get your dad's attention."

"Tell me about it. Dana's dad flipped his shit when she went out with Juice Ortiz."

Olivia stiffened a little. Dipped into Katie's bag for some foundation. "Did he?" she said, struggling to keep her voice neutral.

"Oh yeah," Katie said, completely oblivious to Olivia's shift in mood. "Why do you think she did it? New guy who'd been with _Asia Martinez_? Please. The minute he rode in on that motorcycle and started hanging with Jax Teller and Opie Winston she made up her mind. Didn't hurt that he's cute."

"Jax is cute, and I would think more Dana's type."

"That's true, but she's tried with Jax like three times and hasn't gotten anywhere. Plus a _Mexican_ biker just made her dad that much madder."

"He's Puerto Rican," Olivia said.

"Huh?"

"Juice Ortiz? He's Puerto Rican, not Mexican."

Katie hitched a shoulder. "What's the difference? He's not white and he drives a motorcycle."

"Right," Olivia said through gritted teeth.

Katie eyed her as Olivia added bronzer to help perk up her color. "Did you really sleep with Mr. Collins?"

"Um." She fiddled with the makeup brush. "Yeah, I did, but not until after he was fired."

"Wow," Katie said with a giggle. She sounded genuinely impressed. "He's totally hot."

Olivia's mouth quirked. "Yeah, he really is."

She lowered her voice even though they were alone. "Was he, like…I mean, was he _good_?"

"Of course he was. Why else would I do it?"

Katie blinked at her. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_, what's the point of having sex with someone if you don't have a good time? Seriously."

She looked like the idea had never occurred to her. "It's how you make them happy," she said.

"Them. Guys. So…why the fuck is it _our_ job to make them happy? They have hands and access to porn. Let them make themselves happy if they don't care about us."

"You're not kidding," Katie said after a moment.

"Not at all."

"What did TJ say when you shared this life philosophy with him?"

"I didn't have it when I was with TJ. But when I wouldn't have sex with him he tried to rape me and I kneed him in the balls."

Katie choked. "Oh my God! That's what you were talking about yesterday?"

"Yep." She stood back and studied Katie's face with a critical eye. "Barely noticeable. You need me to walk you to the nurse?"

She looked like Olivia had just offered to give her open heart surgery with a hacksaw. "I'll be good, thanks."

"Yeah." She packed Katie's makeup bag and shoved it back in her backpack before she handed it over. "Of course you will."

She swung around as she reached the door. "Be careful, Katie. TJ's dangerous. Stick with John. He might be an idiot, but he's a harmless idiot."

Katie smirked. "I thought I'd see if Juice Ortiz is free now that Dana's done with him. Biker bodyguard _and_ a surefire way to piss my dad off."

Olivia's mouth curved in a cold, sweet smile. "Stay away from Juice Ortiz, Katie. He's not your boy toy."

"Dana enjoyed him."

"I'm sure she did. But things are different now, and I don't think he's interested."

"Why?" Katie said with a laugh. "You two fucking or something?"

"Nope," Olivia said. "I just know what he likes."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

She grinned and pushed the bathroom door open. "A challenge, Katie. That boy loves a challenge."

* * *

Tara had somehow sort of accidentally ended up at Olivia's after school. They'd ordered pizza and watched _Empire Records_, and now they were sprawled out on Olivia's couch trying to get up the energy to move.

"We really didn't need two pizzas," Tara said.

"Ordering them was fine. It was _eating_ both of them that was the problem."

Tara studied the picture on the movie's box. "You know, I'm not even into it and Liv Tyler is totally hot in this flick."

"Tara, _everyone_ is into it when it comes to Liv Tyler in this movie."

She conceded that with a grin. "I'm really glad she didn't fuck Rex Manning."

"Oh, Rexie!" Olivia said in a high, breathy voice.

"You're so _sexy_!"

"God," Olivia said and rolled her eyes. "Like, I get it. Girlhood fantasy, right? But it just shows you that sometimes your fantasies are better off _not_ coming true."

"Even your girlhood fantasy of making out with Liv Tyler?"

"Completely different situation."

"Uh huh."

Olivia threw a balled up napkin at her, but she dodged it. "Hey, so…speaking of…"

Tara lifted a brow. "Speaking of making out with Liv Tyler?"

"Sort of. In a thematic sense."

"Thematic as in making out, or thematic as in fantasizing about girls?"

"The latter."

"Hum. Okay. Shoot."

Olivia's leg dangled over the edge of the sofa, and she kicked it a little just to make it swing. "I came out to my dad the other day."

"_What_? What did he say?"

She sat up and shrugged. "He seemed okay. The usual _is it a phase_ bullshit, but I set him straight about that, and…I don't know. I really think he was…I think he was okay."

"Ollie, that's so awesome!" Tara hugged her, squeezing hard. "How did it even come up? Did you plan it?"

"Not at all. He was freaking out over that flyer and he got all _you didn't bring him home because you knew it was a bad idea_ and I just kinda—I asked him what he would've done if the picture were of me and a girl."

"Wow. Was he shocked?"

"Pretty much. But, I mean, it was a lot. First he finds out his daughter had an affair with her twenty-six-year-old former teacher, then he finds out she's into chicks."

"Which hit him harder?"

"Oh the Ben thing for sure. Can't get pregnant from a chick."

Tara laughed. "True. Definite advantage there."

"He and Juice's mom kinda flipped out over the suspension and TJ and everything."

"Oh yeah?"

"They cornered us last night and lectured for an hour about responsibility and blahblah. I honestly don't know if it was about Juice getting in a fight, or about the dangers of unprotected sex."

"Did they _say_ that?"

"Ha! No. But they were layin' it on _way_ thick."

"Timely lecture, methinks," Tara said with a grin.

"I already told him we're not having sex tonight. I mean, I seriously doubt our parents would approve of any of my tenuous plans, but at least it won't be that."

"Oh, Ollie. You're such a delinquent."

"S'true." She frowned a little and started to clean up the mess from the pizza boxes. "Something kinda weird happened today."

"This is Charming, Olivia. Something weird happens every day. Be more specific."

She stacked their plates and threw the napkins in the trash. "I ran into Katie Adams in the bathroom during lunch. She was locked in one of the stalls, crying."

"Katie Adams? San Joaquin Barbie?"

It was a nickname they'd invented for her back in middle school, and as accurate as it might be it made Olivia uncomfortable now. "The one and only. Apparently she and TJ had some sort of confrontation, and he decked her."

Tara blinked. "You're fucking kidding me."

"Nope. She had the black eye to prove it."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah."

There was a grim silence while she processed it.

"He's unraveling or something," Tara finally said.

"Seems like. God only knows how his dad reacted to the suspension, and he got kicked off lacrosse and banned from _everything_. Presbo threatened to expel him if he messed with me again."

"You and any other girl at South," Tara said.

"Well, yeah, but—" Olivia broke off and her eyes went wide. "No way. Katie would never rat him out."

"Does she have to? If you told Presbo what she said…?"

"He'd ask her about it, she'd deny the whole thing, and I'd look like a desperate bitch who can't let shit go."

"_Let shit go_," she said. Her tone dripped with disdain. "Like _you_ should be the one to have to let it go."

"I know. It's fucked up, but unfortunately that's life." She hesitated and Tara eyed her. "I offered Katie protection, like from the guys? But she said no."

"Hum."

"Until it occurred to her how much it would piss off her rich daddy if she came home with a biker boyfriend," Olivia said.

"Jax and Opie are taken, so unless she wants Chibs—"

Olivia waved a hand. "Juice isn't."

"Of course he is."

"_She_ doesn't know that."

"You don't think Juice would ever be interested in Katie _Adams_?"

"I don't know," Olivia said with a shrug. "He was interested in Dana. Katie said Dana only went after him to piss off _her_ dad."

"Ugh. That's so gross. Poor Juice."

"He doesn't know."

"Yeah, and you can't tell him."

"I know." She grabbed the empty boxes and headed for the kitchen. Tara picked up the plates and went after her.

"You wanna tell him, don't you?"

"No, of course not." She took the dishes from her friend and set them in the sink. "I don't know. Yeah, a little. I mean, I'm not his girlfriend. He could decide he's bored with this whole thing and take Katie up on her offer. Assuming Katie makes an offer, which of course she may not."

Tara propped a hip against the counter as Olivia ran hot water into the sink and added a little soap. "Why would he do that?"

"Maybe because Katie would put out?"

"You're gonna put out. Just not in the traditional sense. And, I mean, I seriously doubt he's complaining about what happened the other night." She paused and chewed her lip a second. "Ollie, listen. I know you're not gonna have sex with Juice just because you're worried he might go out with Katie Adams, and I know you're not gonna tell him what she said because you know it would hurt his feelings. Stop worrying about it. He's where he wants to be."

"You think?"

"I've got zero doubts, babe. Katie's just a pretty face. You're—I don't know. You. Ollie Gable, ass kicker and mistress of metal."

"Ooo, I like that. Let's make it my official title."

"Done. Do I get a title?"

"Tara Knowles, future saver of tiny babies, miracle worker, and all around best friend forever."

"Excellent. Now we're one step closer to founding our own sovereign nation."

"I always wanted one of them." Olivia finished with the dishes and put them in the drying rack. She was drying her hands on a towel when the bell rang.

"What time is it?" she said.

"Like, six forty-five."

"Oh shit! How did it get that late?" She dashed down the hall, away from the front door, and Tara chased her.

"What's wrong with you? It's just Juice, right?"

"Yes, but tomorrow is laundry day. I have one pair of cute underwear hidden at the back of my drawer, and there was no way I was wearing them to school today."

Tara's eyes went wide. "I'll keep him busy."

Juice's greeting died half-formed on his lips when the door opened. "Tara?"

"Hey, big boy. In the mood for a three-way?"

His mouth fell open and she burst out laughing. "Holy God your _face_." She waved her hand and stepped back. "Ollie'll just be a sec. Come on in."

He closed the door behind him and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I just came by to—um, I mean—Olivia asked if I—"

"Stop before you hurt yourself. Best friend, remember?"

"Ahh," he said.

Tara cast a glance over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "Just between you and me, she's crazy about you. Getting her to admit it is gonna be kind of hard, though, and if you push her on it she'll go the other way just out of pure pig-headedness."

He ducked his head to hide a grin. "It's all good," he said. "I guess—I guess I'm sorta crazy about her, too, and I don't wanna do anything to fuck it up. I get where she's coming from."

Tara gave him a long careful study. Finally she said, "Good on you. Maybe you actually have a chance."

"Hi, I'm here! Sorry about that. We had like five pizzas earlier and I needed to brush my teeth."

"Two pizzas, bitch," Tara said.

"Whatever." She offered Juice a smile. "Hey," she said.

"Hey." His mouth moved in that slow curve that made her tingle all over, and her own grin deepened. Their eyes locked and held and the moment stretched.

Tara glanced between the two of them and decided three was definitely a crowd. "Okay. TM's closed, which means my man's free. And clearly you two have plans, sooo…"

Olivia blinked. "Call me tomorrow?" she said.

"Uh huh. Wouldn't miss it."

They exchanged hugs, then Tara grabbed her jacket and her backpack and was out the door. Olivia locked it behind her and turned slowly to face Juice.

"Well," she said.

"Well."

They drifted closer. She felt strangely shy, and she couldn't figure out why. There was the thing last night on the phone, but after everything else that didn't seem like such a big deal. She hooked her thumbs in her back pockets, and this time he let his eyes trail down the length of her body. Her cheeks went hot.

"Um," she said. She shifted. "Are you hungry? Tara and I ate all the pizza, but I'm sure we could find something."

"Nah," he said. "Tig made a run to the taco truck about an hour ago."

"I love that taco truck."

"Me too! Their _carnitas_, man."

"Work of art." It broke the tension, and she relaxed. "Come on in," she said.

She stopped. Did she want to take him to the living room, or straight to her bedroom? The latter seemed a little too desperate, but the former was a waste of time because she wasn't about to make out with him on the couch. There was a tiny chance her dad could show up early, and that was the last thing he needed to walk in on.

"My room's down there," she said. "Last door on the right. I'm gonna grab us something to drink and I'll meet you there."

"Cool," he said. He trooped down the hall and into her room. Paused at the door to rub his palms against his thighs and give the place a look-over. The walls were painted a dusky lavender, and her bedspread was white with tiny violets scattered here and there. Pretty, he thought. Not what he would've expected. The bed was neatly made and covered in useless little pillows. What was it with girls and pillows?

There was a Pearl Jam poster—it made him think of the day they met—and another one of some blue-eyed pretty boy leaning against a locker looking angsty. There was a weird one of a flying blue cow, but he recognized it from when he'd looked up Chagall. He stepped closer to her desk to study the photo collage she had pinned to a cork board: pictures of her and Tara, her and Jax, her and Ope, all of them together and in various combos. There was a woman with eyes like Olivia. Her mom, he guessed.

A couple newer ones were tacked to one corner: all six of them, from the night of Opie's birthday thing. And one of just Juice and Olivia. He didn't remember anyone taking it. Her head was thrown back with laughter, her nose scrunched, and the back of her hand was pressed against his shoulder. He grinned at her like a dumbass. Yep. Just about right.

He smiled. She had a picture of the two of them on her board. Just the two of them. Together. Laughing together. It made him feel warm all over.

"See somethin' you like, Ortiz?" her droll voice said from the doorway.

"Yep," he said without turning around.

She joined him at the desk and he caught her smile from the corner of his eye. "Not sure why I kept this one," she said and pulled its pin out. "I guess I have a soft spot for cute boys with nice grins."

She handed him a can of Coke and he set it on the desk. "Oh yeah?" he said.

"Mmhhmm. Sort of my kryptonite."

"Funny you should say that, because I was thinking earlier I had no idea _my_ kryptonite was short redheads with freckles and an attitude problem."

"I do _not_ have an attitude problem."

"Sure." He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. His other hand carded through her hair. "Whatever you say, Liv."

She braced her palms against his chest and tipped her head back as he dipped to brush his mouth over hers. The kiss started out gentle and easy, but in just a few seconds the heat ramped up and she found herself plastered against him. His hand drifted down to her ass and she sucked his lip into her mouth. She echoed his quiet moan, but when his thigh slipped between her legs she pushed away.

"Okay, wait." She blew out a breath and scrubbed her fingers through her mussed hair. "We've got practically all night. Let's…let's slow down a little."

He blinked, and his mouth curved in a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I kind of lose my mind a little when I touch you."

"I was right there with you, buddy, believe me." She smiled. "Um, how about some music? And take your boots off. Get comfortable."

He sat down in the chair to unlace his boots, but he didn't tell her what he was thinking: he wasn't sure if it were possible for him to be completely comfortable with her, at least not while he couldn't stop thinking about last night, and all those little noises she made when she came.

He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

She eyed him like she could read his mind. "Don't worry, Ortiz," she said. "We're gonna have a really good time tonight. I promise."

* * *

_So how'd you guys enjoy the premiere last night?_

_*slight spoiler, just a baby one*_

_Interesting to me that I had Olivia showing signs of ocd in cwmt and now it turns out Juice has it. Hum. I wondered why his house was so neat. Also Juice has a sister? (in related news, ocd can manifest as a symptom of ptsd; they go hand-in-hand sometimes, bc ptsd sufferers feel so out of control and overcompensate where they can. which is why Olivia was showing signs of it. and is probably Juice's issue too.)_

_Anyway. I might not publish tomorrow because I'm a little stuck at ch23 and want to get a little further ahead. We'll see what happens. :)_


	20. Closer

The David Gray quote at the beginning should tell you pretty much everything you need to know about this chapter. Also, please see the end for a few more notes. :)

Thanks, guys, and enjoy!

* * *

**the hail storm tumbles **  
**the rail line rumbles **  
**you lie on the floor with me **  
**come closer my love **  
**i'm badly in need **  
**of an afternoon's debauchery**  
David Gray, "Debauchery"

They'd been lying in her bed together for over an hour, and they were both still fully clothed. The weird part was Juice wasn't even impatient. She'd lit some candles, and the warm scent of honey filled the air as the beeswax melted. The CD she'd put on had stopped a while ago, but neither of them wanted to move to change it. She was snuggled against his shoulder, her hair fanned over his chest, and he toyed with the silken strands as they talked.

She told him about the weird encounter with John at lunch, and the even stranger one with Katie later. She didn't mention Dana, but she did tell him Katie had said he was cute.

"She said what?" he said, choking a little.

Olivia hitched a shoulder. "What? She's got eyes." She paused and raised her head to look at him. "What would you do if she actually made a move on you?"

"Come on, Liv, she wouldn't do that. She's like…and I'm like…" He waved a hand to express the vague point, and her brows quirked in agreement.

"She normally steers clear of Mill rats like you and me, but I think she might be lookin' for a bad boy."

He snorted. "Me? Sure, Liv. I'm on honor roll and last week I helped a little old lady cross the street. I'm a fuckin' delinquent."

"You got suspended for punching the guy who punched _her_. That's attractive to any girl, I think maybe."

"Olivia—" He broke off with a frown. "I know we're not…we're not an official thing or whatever, but…you're the only girl I want. You know that, right?"

She let that slide past. "Katie Adams is really pretty. Nice body, too. Cheerleader."

He scowled. "You're really pretty and have a nice body, but whatever. When it comes to comparing you and Katie Adams that doesn't even matter."

Her head tilted. "What do you mean?"

"She's mean, Liv. And not mean like you, because you aren't _actually_ mean; you just pretend you are to keep people away. Katie Adams _is_ actually mean. She treats kids like shit. You know that weird dude Chucky Marstein? Wears gloves all the time?"

"And speaks in rhyme, yeah. He's in my English Lit class. He's weird, but he's actually kinda cool. Didn't get gross with me after the TJ thing. Stayed normal, basically. I mean, normal for Chucky Marstein, which is pretty far outside the curve."

"Right," he said with a brief grin. "Anyway, the other week he walked up to her in the hall. She'd dropped something and he was just givin' it back to her. Like, completely harmless. She made this _face_ like he was a cockroach and said somethin' like, _who gave you permission to speak to me?_ or some shit. It was bad."

"Ugh," Olivia said.

"Yeah. And then one day this freshman girl was just at her locker, minding her own business, and I don't know what Katie said to her, but it made her cry. I guess they had on the same skirt or something? Trust me: pretty or not, there's not a single thing I find attractive about Katie Adams."

There was a pause. Finally, "You really think I'm pretty and have a nice body?" She said it all in a rush, and blushed bright red because it sounded so shallow and vapid.

He grinned and cupped her face in his hand. "You're gorgeous, Liv. I mean, not pretty like the way Katie Adams is. She's kinda boring pretty. Obvious. You're like…I don't know. I wanna look twice, and then I can't stop looking because there's always somethin' new."

She scrunched her nose. "I have all these dumb freckles."

He kissed the scrunch. Her forehead. The apple of her cheek. "The freckles might be my favorite part."

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "You're real nice when you think people aren't paying attention. You didn't have to help Katie today. You could've walked away and I don't think anybody would've blamed you. But you didn't. You helped her because that's how you are. You're a good person, and people like Katie Adams just don't get how much more important that is than lookin' like a Barbie doll or havin' a bunch of money or any of that dumb, worthless shit."

Her mouth curved and she kissed him long and slow. "You're really good at this, Ortiz."

"At what?" he said, surprised.

"I don't know. That thing. I don't mean being smooth, because you're honestly one of the least smooth people I've ever met. Which I like, don't take me wrong. You're good at…" She lifted a hand in a shrug. "I don't know what I mean. Saying exactly the thing that makes me feel all giddy and silly."

"Wow. Never heard that one before. I usually say exactly the _wrong_ thing."

"Yeah, well, we definitely had that phase. I think we're past it now."

"I hope so. I prefer you giddy and silly rather than ready to cut my head off."

She kissed him again, and as his tongue rubbed against hers she pulled away with a soft, contented noise. "You know, I had originally planned to start our lessons with kissing, but I feel confident we can skip that one."

"Oh yeah?" He lifted her chin up towards him and captured her mouth again. Her lower lip slotted between his just like the very first time, but this time he let his teeth sink in, just a little, and at her gasp dipped his tongue into her mouth to tease and explore.

They were both breathless when the kiss finally broke.

"You don't stick your tongue down my throat," she said. "You wait for an invitation. At Christmas—how did you know?"

"Know what?" he said. "That you didn't want me to stick my tongue down your throat?" At her look he shrugged. "I don't know. I thought—I couldn't believe I was actually kissing you, and I didn't want it to stop. I figured if I did something like that you might slap me. I just wanted to kiss you, not…"

"Fuck me up against the wall?" she murmured just to see his reaction.

He didn't disappoint. His dark eyes went huge and he shook his head. "That didn't really—"

"Sure it did. It's okay. It occurred to me, too." She kissed his nose. "Let's make a deal, okay? I'll be honest with you, and you be honest with me. Tell me what you're thinking. What you want. What you like and what you don't. If we can't do that much then what's the point?"

He took a deep breath. "It's weird. I never thought of…I never really thought of actually having conversations about this stuff. It's just something you _do_, you know? Not talk about."

"I thought that way, too, but then someone enlightened me. Life's too short for bad sex, Ortiz, and the only way to make it better is to talk about it." Her mouth quirked. "Besides, you seemed to enjoy talking about it last night."

"That was a new experience for me."

"But you liked it?"

"Oh yeah. I can't believe I'm about to say this because it's not like we were actually touching or even in the same goddamn _building_, but that was maybe the hottest thing I've ever done."

"Mmmm," she said. She pressed her lips to the corner of his jaw and whispered against his skin: "Just wait, baby. It only gets better."

He shivered. "So, um—" He stopped himself. She was right: it was stupid to not be able to talk about this stuff if they were going to be doing it. _Just spit it out, Ortiz_, he told himself.

"So what's on the agenda tonight, since I guess it's not a lesson about kissing?" he said.

"Ummm…" Her face creased as she thought it over. "Let's skip ahead a little."

She sat up and took off her t-shirt. His eyes bugged out at the sight of her dark blue satin bra. It was overlaid with black lace, and her skin looked impossibly white against it. He swallowed. He could swear he was actually drooling.

"You had the right idea the other day in the break room, you just didn't take enough time," she said. "Just like anything else, nipples vary. Some women like a lot of nipple play, some don't like any at all."

"What about…you?" he said, struggling to concentrate on her words.

"I like to be turned on first. After that, the more the merrier. But don't just go grabbing at my chest right off the bat."

"Okay," he said. Their eyes met, and she gave him an encouraging smile.

"Touch me, Juicy. Please. Trust me. I'm turned on."

The idea made his throat go dry and tight. He sat up across from her and held out a hand. His fingers were shaking. She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, but he stopped her.

"Not yet," he said. "Gimme a sec."

She let her arms fall to her sides and went still as she watched him.

His knuckles brushed the swell of her breast. Her skin was incredibly smooth, silk and velvet, and when he ran his fingertips over it he stared in fascination as a flush spread across her chest. He moved his hand to the other one and dipped his head to kiss where he'd just touched, a feather-light graze of his lips against her.

She made a tiny noise, something like a gasp, and he smiled. He did it again, more firmly. Opened his mouth and let his tongue trail over her. He kissed his way to the center of her chest, and then up the curve of her other breast. He lingered a moment, and carefully, gently, let his teeth sink into her soft flesh.

She whimpered and her fingers curled into his hair. He took that as a good sign and added some suction. A little more when she gasped. Harder. She might have to wear a high-cut shirt for the next few days. He broke off and soothed the spot with his tongue.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"S'okay," she said. "Just not where anyone can see, yeah?"

"No problem. Not exactly questions I want you to have to answer."

"So considerate, Ortiz," she said as she ran her hand over his head.

He tugged her bra strap down her shoulder and gave her a questioning look. She grinned and unhooked it. It fell away and he stopped to stare.

Her breasts were full, each a good handful for him, and her skin was marble-pale. Her nipples were a pretty peachy-pink color, and at the moment they were hard and inviting. On the right breast, just outside the aureole, was a freckle. A single freckle, darker than the others, and he couldn't resist the urge to lick it.

"Mmm," she murmured.

She fell back against the mound of pillows, her fingers tangled in his shirt, and he had no choice but to follow her. He arranged himself so that his weight was on his elbows rather than on her, and once again his thigh found its way between her legs.

"You're so beautiful, Livvie," he said. He left a trail of kisses around the silky underside of her breast. "Sexy." His tongue lapped across her nipple. "Taste so good."

She shivered at the feel of his warm breath on her sensitive skin. "Still taste like candied violets?"

"Nuh uh," he said. "Better."

His mouth closed over her nipple and her back arched a little. He sucked. Nibbled. Lashed his tongue across it and enjoyed the sound of her little moans. He trailed his hand up her body to knead the other one in his palm and her breathing deepened.

"That's good, Juicy," she said. "Feels so good."

He pulled back a little to nuzzle between her breasts with his nose. Press a kiss to her sternum. He switched his hand and licked his way around the underside and up the opposite curve. He teased her nipple with his tongue, lightly flicking against it and swirling around it without actually touching the sensitive nub.

Her fingers were back in his hair, and as she pulled a little he knew he was on the right track. He kept up the close-but-not-quite until she let out a low growl of frustration.

"Juice!"

He grinned and sucked it between his lips. Held it there and rubbed his tongue back and forth across it. She writhed beneath him, and he knew she had to feel his erection pressing against her belly. He groaned and increased the pressure as he sucked.

She let out a broken little whimper and pressed her hand against his forehead. "Okay," she gasped, "okay, I think you've got that one down."

He lifted his head, confused. "What…?" he said.

She grinned. "_A_ plus, Ortiz. Gold star and a double check mark."

"Oh," he said and blushed. "Really?"

She gave a drunken nod and laughed, breathlessly. "Yeah, babe. Really."

He ran a hand down the center of her chest, from her sternum to the waist of her jeans. She was flushed, and her sweat-dampened skin seemed to glow in the low light. Her nipples were swollen and reddened, like pretty little cherries. He licked his lips. She narrowed her eyes at him and ran her thumb over his lower lip.

"Eyes front, soldier," she said, but her voice was rough, and he knew she wasn't completely opposed to the idea of more.

But he'd agreed to follow her rules, so he let his gaze flick up to meet hers. "Do your panties match your bra?" he said. The second it was out he kicked himself. That wasn't part of her plan, and he really needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut.

She didn't look pissed, though. Her mouth curved and she guided his hand to the button on her jeans. "Why don't you find out?"

He choked out a breath. "Liv—"

"Just help me with my jeans, baby. We'll decide what happens next when we get to it."

He undid the button and lowered the zipper. Helped her slither out of them and tossed them away. Her panties did match the bra: dark blue satin, with black lace along the waist and at her hips. They were cut high on the leg and low at the waist, and there wasn't a lot to them.

He approved whole-heartedly.

She grinned at the look on his face. He ran his eyes down the length of her legs. He still wanted to kiss her scars, but she hadn't invited him to do anything south of her middle, so with a reluctant sigh he moved back up to lie next to her.

"You look a little over-dressed, Ortiz," she said.

"It is kinda warm in here."

"I think that's just the company," she said with a smirk. "Take your clothes off. Everything but your boxers."

He had no idea why that command, spoken really more like a request, sent such a shock through him, but it did. His breathing went ragged as he stripped off his t-shirt and struggled out of his pants. She watched him with a lifted brow and a tiny smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. Her gaze drifted down to the tent in his boxers and the dimple appeared in her chin.

"I'm guessing you enjoyed that," she said.

He swallowed, and when he tried to look away she took him gently by the jaw and turned his face to her again.

"I wanted you to enjoy it, Juicy. I _hope_ you did. I know I did."

A crease appeared between his brows. "I thought I was learning how to make you feel good…not how to turn myself on."

"Hopefully the two go hand in hand. You turn me on; it turns you on. I turn you on; it turns me on. It's a circle, not a straight line."

"Oh," he said. He looked like he'd just had an epiphany. "Oh," he repeated. "I knew…I mean, Christ, after last night I obviously knew I really, _really_ like making you come."

"Babe, that's the whole _point_. Sex pretty much always feels good for a guy, but it's so much _better_ when you're both enjoying it. Like, _really_ enjoying it."

"As much as we both enjoyed last night?"

"More," she said and kissed him. "Last night was way fun, and I came really hard, but it's even better when your hands are actually on me."

He shifted and clenched his jaw. "I like having my hands on you. And my mouth." His eyes were hot as he studied her. "I meant what I said: I just wanna make you come, Livvie. I'll finger you, eat you out, whatever. I can deal with this later," he said with a gesture to his hard-on.

"Mmmm," she said, a regretful little noise. "Those are more advanced lessons, baby. It isn't smart to skip around."

Though, she thought, if he were as good with a clit as he was with a nipple…

She shivered and blinked the image away.

"What was that?" he said with a grin.

"Nothing," she replied, all innocence. She pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips. He groaned a little as she settled down over his erection.

"Liv, what—?"

She kissed him. Her breasts brushed his bare chest and they both gasped. She sat up and slid her hands up his body. Their eyes met and locked. Hers were intense, the bright green darkened in the half-light. His were almost entirely pupil, wide and surprised. Her teeth scraped across her lower lip and he gripped her by the hair to haul her closer for a hard, hot kiss.

She moaned into his mouth and wiggled.

"Fuck," he rasped. "Goddamn you're makin' me crazy."

"Good," she said and nipped his lips with hers.

She raised up on her knees and reached between them to free him from his boxers. He drew in a sharp hiss when her fingers brushed against his throbbing cock, but it transformed into a curse as she dropped down onto him again. He was pressed against her satin panties, and he could feel the molten heat of her through the thin material.

"Livvie—"

She rocked against him and cut him off with another kiss.

"Holy shit goddamn holy…"

"Good, baby?" she murmured.

The slippery cloth slid up and down the length of his shaft every time she moved. It was incredible, all soft heat, but his face scrunched as he looked at her.

"It's fucking—Jesus, it's amazing. But what about you?" he said. "Can you—?"

Her mouth curved. "I like the way you think, Ortiz."

She guided his hand down and he helped her reposition his cock so that the head was against her clit. She wiggled, working him until he was nestled between her slick labia and her panties were the only thing separating him from her hot cunt.

"Oh God," he whispered. He gripped her hips, a desperate squeeze, as she started to move. Wetness dripped around the edges of her panties and coated his cock with every stroke. She bit her lip as the ridge bumped over her clit. The satin that had seemed so insubstantial before now felt like the fucking Berlin Wall.

She ground against him. His hands slid around to cup her ass, and he thrust up into her. The slide was slow and exquisite. Just a little rough. He panted when she went faster and gritted his teeth in frustration when she slowed down.

"Here," she murmured. She hooked his fingers into her panties and showed him how to tug on them in counterpoint to her rocking.

He watched her face in fascination as her mouth fell open and color bloomed across her cheeks. "Do you like that, baby?" he said, his voice low and rough.

"Uh huh. So good!"

He sat up a little to gather her against him. He kissed her neck. Brushed his tongue against the sensitive spot just below her jaw. "You like your panties and my cock rubbing your clit like that, Livvie?" He bit her throat, a quick scrape of teeth, and lapped over the spot to soothe it.

"Yes, Juicy! Yes don't stop!" She rocked faster, and as she got wetter and wetter it got quicker and easier. Her panties moved one way and his cock moved the other and it was fucking _maddening_. Almost like a tongue, but not as direct, and as the heat built and built she shuddered with pleasure.

"Fuck, baby, fuck that feels so fuckin' good goddamn you're so sexy. So hot, Livvie, _fuck_!"

He grasped her breast with his free hand and pinched her nipple between his knuckles. His hips bucked and she let out a soft, whimpering moan that he recognized from last night.

"That's it, baby," he said. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. "Come for me. Come all over my cock. You feel how hard I am for you, Livvie? You got me so crazy losin' my mind feels so good…!"

His husky, rasping voice in her ear was more than she could handle, and that combined with the rough tugs on her nipple sent her over the edge. She froze for a moment as the orgasm hit, but he didn't stop. Her head fell back, and every brush of her underwear against her hyper-sensitive clit sent another hard pulse through her.

"Oh my God, oh God fuck holy shit!" she whimpered.

He felt her lips squeeze around him and he groaned. "Baby, fuck, baby, I can't—!" And suddenly he was coming, spilling all over his stomach in short, strong bursts that left him breathless and dizzy.

Her forehead fell to rest on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her. She licked a trickle of sweat off his neck and he shivered.

"I made a mess," he said when he could breathe again.

She lifted her head to look at him with a sexy little grin. "You sure did." She made a soft _tsk_ noise and ran her finger through it. Lifted a brow at him and sucked the fingertip into her mouth.

"Fuck me," he croaked.

"I think I sort of just did."

He laughed, but it choked and died when she dipped her finger in his come again.

"You want to know how good you taste?" she asked in a voice like velvet.

His eyes went round and he blinked at her. What…? He felt his cock stir at the idea, and apparently she did too.

"Is that a _yes_?" she said.

He couldn't speak. His throat had closed and words were beyond him. He gave a desperate nod and she laughed, a sweet ripple. She moved her finger toward him, and he leaned forward to capture it, but at the last minute she pulled back. She stuck out her tongue and pressed her fingertip against it. Brushed across her full lower lip.

"Jesus Christ," he wheezed.

She giggled and dipped her head to kiss him. Their tongues met first, then their lips, and he licked her mouth clean with an aching groan. She pulled away and ran her hand over his hair.

"I can honestly say _that's_ a new experience."

"Uh huh," he said. "I'm pretty sure I liked it."

"I'm pretty sure we both did," she said with a quirk of her brow. She slid off him and threw her legs over the edge of the bed.

"You leaving?" he said.

"I'll be right back." She dropped a kiss on his mouth. "Don't move."

He could hear water running in the bathroom down the hall, and when she reappeared she was naked. He swallowed. "What happened to your panties?" he said, his eyes glued to the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. It was a darker red than on her head, more coppery than golden.

She snapped her fingers in front of his face and he looked up at her with a guilty flush. "Sorry," he said.

"Mmhhmm. I had to wash them out in the sink. I made a bit of a mess, too."

He grinned. "Was this part of your plan?"

"Nope," she said. She crawled onto the bed, and he finally noticed the washcloth in her hand. She pressed it against his belly, and he sighed at the warmth. "Well," she said, tilting her head, "I guess the first part was." She gently wiped the come off his skin. "I had sort of planned to get you all wound up and then—leave you there."

He winced. "That's mean, Liv."

"Yup."

"You aren't even sorry."

"Nope."

She finished cleaning him up and planted a kiss just below his belly button before she set the washcloth on the nightstand. He stretched out his arm and she curled up against him again. He tugged his boxers back into place. Kissed the tip of her nose and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I guess I should be used to it by now," he said.

"Hmm? Used to what?"

"You winding me up and leaving me to take care of it on my own."

She gave him a light smack on the chest. "Who sucked your dick the other night? I don't think it was you."

"Not quite that flexible, unfortunately."

"It's okay," she said and pressed her lips against the spot she'd just slapped. "That's what I'm here for."

"Olivia, you can't just _say_ things like that. I'm sixteen. You _sneeze_ in my direction I get hard. Shit like that's just too much."

"I'll keep that in mind next time I feel the urge to sneeze."

"You're impossible," he said with a grin.

"You love it."

"I really do."

As soon as the words left his mouth he tensed. Her head came up and her eyes were wide. "I didn't mean—"

"No, I know," she said. "I didn't either."

"I just meant—"

"I know. So did I."

"Don't freak out," he said.

"I'm not. Are you?"

"No. I just don't want you to."

"I'm fine," she said.

"Me too."

"Okay." Her mouth quirked. "Good. I'm glad we're both fine."

His hand slid down her back to squeeze her ass. "I'm actually great."

"I think maybe I should put something on," she mumbled against his lips.

"Nah," he said. He danced his fingertips up her ribs and she giggled.

"Yes, for sure." She twisted away and hunted down her t-shirt. He let out a sigh of disappointment as she tugged it on.

"Probably for the best," he muttered. "Your boobs are incredibly distracting."

"You've had that problem since the first day we met."

"Ahh…kinda hoped you hadn't noticed that."

"Please. We always notice."

"Hum," he said. "Oops."

"It's fine," she said as she settled next to him again. "Just try not to leer."

"Can't make any promises."

She smiled softly and kissed the corner of his jaw. "You're really cute, Ortiz."

"So you keep saying."

"Is there a problem?"

He sighed. "Puppies are cute, Liv."

"I like puppies."

"Yeah, but—maybe, ya know, I'd rather be sexy. Not so much like a puppy."

"Um." She ducked her head to hide her grin. "Juice, seriously. After what just happened do you really have any doubts about how sexy I think you are?"

He shifted and his eyes flicked away. "I don't know. Maybe…?"

She took his face in her hands and kissed him long and slow. "Do you have any idea how much I think about you? Last night you made me come talking about _ice cream_. You can get me wet just by looking at me the right way. You make me crazy, Juice. I've never—I can't believe I'm saying all this. I've never had someone affect me like you do, okay? Yes, you're sexy. You're incredibly sexy. You're cute and you're sexy and you're hot and I swear to _God_ if Katie Adams lays one perfect little finger on you I will rip her pretty blonde hair out by the _roots_."

He choked on a laugh. "Holy shit, Liv."

"I'm sorry. That last bit was a little much."

"I didn't think you'd be the jealous type."

She made a face. "Apparently I am. I just—she just—ugh, she was so fucking _smug_. Like all she had to do was crook her finger and you'd come running."

"Her perfect little finger?"

"That's the one. Quit laughing at me, butthead."

"Did you just call me a butthead?"

"Yup. And you deserved it."

He rolled over on top of her so fast she barely had time to react. She let out a little squeak and then he was kissing her. Running his hands up her sides and nipping at her neck with his lips.

"Juicy, what are you doing?" she murmured. But her fingers were in his hair and she didn't try to push him away. "Juicy, baby, please. We can't—"

"I know, Livvie," he rasped. "I'm gonna stop." He licked her collarbones and pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat to feel the pounding pulse there. Then, with a pained groan, he pulled away and flipped onto his back.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't," she said. She sounded out of breath. "But that was your reaction to me calling you a butthead?"

"More like my reaction to the idea of you fighting Katie Adams."

"Cat fight, Juice? Really?"

"That's not what I meant," he said. "More, just, I guess maybe now you understand how I felt when you were with Mr. Collins."

She turned over to face him and propped her chin on her hand. "You know we're not anything like that, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that…I don't…I mean—the way I feel about you is—it's not the same as how I felt about Ben."

His brow furrowed and he wouldn't look at her. "How did you feel about him?"

"He was—he was cool. We had a good time. He taught me…practically everything I know, I guess. About sex, I mean. I was happy when I was with him."

"Oh," he said, softly.

"Juice, please listen. It wasn't anything serious or…nothing would've come of it. It was like cotton candy. You know how you take a bite and it's really sweet and yummy and then it just melts away like nothing?"

He tilted his chin toward her. "So what are we?"

"I don't know," she said, laughing. "Maybe…chocolate cake? Still sweet and yummy, but with some weight to it. I don't know. That doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah it does," he said after a moment. "I get what you mean."

She hesitated. "Do you—do you like chocolate cake?"

"I love it, Liv. Chocolate cake's my favorite."

Something about his tone worried her, but she chose to ignore it and accept the words at face value. She brushed her mouth over his and smiled.

"Good, Juicy," she said. "It's mine too."

"It's like fate," he said with a grin that didn't quite touch his eyes.

"Yeah," she said, studying his face with concerned eyes. "Yeah, I guess it must be."

* * *

_Hum. Wonder how that's gonna turn out._

_Okay, so obvs I skipped publishing yesterday, bc I was stuck starting ch23. I worked through it, and now 23 is pretty much complete. I kind of know what's gonna happen for 24, so that's good._

_I did not waste my day yesterday, though! If you guys check out my profile you will see a link to a character bio I put together for the _Come With Me Tonight_ version of Olivia. If you've read that story (or are interested in reading it, whatever) it might be a fun thing to have a look at. I'll put one together for this Olivia sometime soon._

_Love to hear from you guys, so lemme know what's up. :)_


	21. Off my Feet

For those of you cheering for Juice and Olivia to make a more emotional connection, I think you'll be pleased with this chapter. :)

* * *

**so who's to worry**  
**if our hearts get torn**  
**when that hurt gets thrown**  
**don't you know this life goes on**  
**and won't you kiss me**  
**on that midnight street**  
**sweep me off my feet**  
**singing ain't this life so sweet**  
David Gray, "This Year's Love"

Juice's mom had kept him busy through the entire week of his suspension and basically wouldn't let him out of the house except for his shifts at TM. Olivia saw him some there, but other than that there was virtually no contact between them. They'd briefly chatted online Wednesday night, but she was keeping him off the computer, too. And the phone.

Olivia understood. She was lucky as hell her dad hadn't flipped out harder over the Ben thing and she was still allowed out of his sight.

But…

Something worried her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she had this weird, nagging sense of unease. They had chances at work to spend time together, moments when they could sneak off somewhere or legit excuses, like she needed help getting a tire off a truck. One day Juice had been drafted to take a run to the taco truck, and she'd offered to go with him to help carry everything. He'd said no.

She couldn't shake the feeling that he was avoiding her.

Friday night had been…insane. Crazy. One of the most intense sexual experiences she'd ever had, and that was really fucking weird considering some of the stuff she'd done with Ben.

But it had been different with Ben. Good because _he_ was good, and because he took his time and made sure she was enjoying it, then later good because he knew her and what she liked. Not that she hadn't been attracted to him and there hadn't been a spark between them, because duh. One doesn't seduce one's teacher, former or otherwise, unless there's attraction. At least not in Olivia's life philosophy.

With Juice it was more like…insta-heat. Intense and wild and the sort of thing that could breed a level of infatuation she didn't want.

It wasn't _just_ that, though. She genuinely liked him. Once she'd finally let her guard down a little and gotten to know him, she realized he was…he was a dork, but in a cool way. He knew things about computers that hadn't even occurred to her before, and when he talked about hacking he got this look on his face…

She shook her head and ducked into her closet. She felt dumb about it, but Juice was due back at school today and she wanted to look cute. She had to find the right outfit: hey, I look cute but I didn't put a lot of effort into it but I did try a _little_ because I wanted you to notice. It was a delicate balance, and she was all alone because she hadn't decided on the plan until about midnight last night.

Maybe she was wasting her time. If he were avoiding her a cute outfit wasn't going to change that. She hated feeling so discomfited. She'd never let a guy mix her up quite like this. TJ's mix-up had been completely different, but she knew she was feeling this way partly because of him. He'd undermined her confidence and sense of self in a way that one didn't bounce back from quickly.

If ever. But she hoped that wasn't the case here.

Juice liked her. She knew that. He wasn't lying or trying to say what he thought she wanted to hear. He was genuine and honest and so, so _sweet_ it _hurt_ sometimes. The thing he'd said about Katie, that looks didn't even come into it because Olivia was a better person and _that's_ what mattered. He found her physically attractive; that was obvious; but it seemed like he liked her for more than that. He _saw_ more than that. Olivia wasn't the type of pretty that controlled your life, that made it impossible for people to see or value anything else, but between her red hair and her big boobs, guys tended to pay more attention to her looks than she felt comfortable with.

She was being ridiculous. Paranoid. If he were avoiding her it was probably just because he was on such tight lockdown at home. Or maybe his mom had told him something weird like _no talking to girls until you straighten up and fly right, young man!_

She giggled at that idea. God he was so damn _cute_.

If only she'd explained the difference between him and Ben a little better. That was where things had gone wrong on Friday. He didn't really understand what it had been like between them, and she didn't like talking about it because it was _their_ business, not anyone else's. But she thought now if she wanted to keep Juice—which she really, really did—she was going to have to stop being so guarded. She'd have to let him in, and further than she had already.

She laid some outfits on her bed and gave them a critical once-over. Discarded the dress she'd chosen. Now it was between shorts and tights or a skirt and tights. Either way, tights, both because she wanted to hide her scars and because apparently panties weren't enough of a barrier when it came to Juice Ortiz.

It felt weird, thinking about him like that: if she wanted to _keep_ him. And she didn't mean it in a possessive way, but she'd never thought she'd be the type of girl to think of a guy like that at all. Guys (relationships in general, though she'd never really had one with a girl) came and went, and she never thought she'd be in a position to want to work to stop one from…going. Not that she thought Juice was going. Not exactly.

And it wasn't even a relationship anyway. Not in _that_ sense. But it was enough of one that she felt the distance, and it hurt. Scared her a little, too, if she were being honest, because she wasn't entirely sure what had caused it. Ben? Sex? Her apparent inability to form a real connection with someone unless she'd known them at least a decade?

"Fuck it," she muttered. She gathered up the clothes and shoved them back in the closet. Skirt, no tights. Maybe the socks, though. He'd seemed to like the socks.

If Juice Ortiz wanted to avoid her, he was going to have one hell of a battle on his hands.

* * *

Olivia wasn't there when Juice got to school Thursday morning. Tara said she was running a little late, and honestly Juice was kinda relieved. He wanted to see her. They'd hardly had a second to themselves the whole week thanks to his mom's _you're not in school so you might as well do this mile-long list of chores I put together for you_ plan of attack, and he'd missed her, but…

But what? He wasn't sure. Friday night had been one of the most incredible experiences of his life, and not just because of the sort-of sex. Just lying in bed with her and talking had been something completely new. He liked _being_ with her. Making her laugh. Watching her face light up when she talked about the things she loved.

And she seemed to really listen to him, and care about what he said. She didn't get that glazed-eyed look when he talked about computers, and she asked questions. Like, smart ones, even though she claimed she wasn't any good with them. She didn't make him feel weird for liking math, and she knew as much about muscle cars than anyone he'd ever met.

So why the fuck had he been avoiding her for the last week? Maybe he just wanted to see how she would react. That was shitty and manipulative, and she deserved better. If he wanted to know how she felt he should just ask her. It wasn't like she'd mislead him at all: she'd told him from day one she didn't want to be his girlfriend, and he could back out if he wanted to.

He just hadn't realized how hard it would be. He wanted to hold her hand in public. Kiss her in front of everybody. Walk down the hall at school with her and have everybody _know_. He didn't want Katie Adams to ask him out, but if she did he wanted to be able to tell her he was with someone. That he was with Olivia Gable and she was worth about twenty of Katie Adams and maybe Katie should get a fuckin' clue and stop acting like she was God's gift to high school.

Olivia would _love_ that. And probably scalp him for it.

It was Thursday, which meant they had shop together later. He could wait to see her then, or he could go find her during free period. It seemed stupid to wait. He _wanted_ to see her; he just wasn't sure what to say. That'd probably only get worse the longer he avoided her. Free period, then.

He pushed open the shop door and crept inside. It was quiet. Empty? She wasn't here? He frowned and checked the break room. Nope, no Olivia. The torch was cool, her most recent sculpture shrouded. Where was she?

He heard the creak of the door and whipped around.

"Oh!" she said, startled. "I didn't know you were in here. Scared me."

"Oh," he echoed, a hard, stunned exhale as he blinked at her.

His eyes raked her from head to toe and back up again: maroon Doc Martens, black and white striped over-the-knee socks, black pleated skirt that was _almost_ too short to pass dress code, fitted white button down. Her hair in tousled waves around her face and her lips painted the sexiest cherry red he'd ever seen. Some sort of smoky thing around her eyes that made the green seem to glow.

He thought she didn't wear makeup on shop days.

Her mouth curved. "You okay? You look spaced. You know you really shouldn't get stoned before school, Ortiz. You just got off suspension."

"Huh?" He gave a quick, sharp jerk of his head and somehow tore his gaze away from the white stretch of skin between the top of her socks and the bottom of her skirt. His brows drew together. "I don't smoke before school, Liv. You know that."

The grin deepened. "That's right. You're a Boy Scout. Honor roll and helping little old ladies cross the street."

"That's me," he said.

She sauntered closer, but stopped just short of touching him. "But we both know that's not quite true, don't we?" she murmured. "I have a very clear memory of Friday night, and—"

"I guess it just takes the right motivation," he said before she could go on.

She slid a hand up his chest to catch his shoulder and pull him into her. Her lips were so close to his ear he could feel the warm whisper of her breath. "I've got a pretty good idea of what _motivates_ you, Juan Carlos."

He frowned. The feel of her pressed against him was incredibly distracting, but he wasn't stupid. Something was wrong here.

"Olivia, come on. You don't have to do this."

"Do what?" she said. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I've missed you, Ortiz. Can't stop thinking about you."

She chose her words very carefully, always, and the fact that she hadn't called him _Juice_ or _Juicy_ told him everything he needed to know. He felt exposed out here in the shop, so he took her hand and tugged her toward the break room. Locked the door behind them and turned to face her. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, and for just a second he forgot everything he'd just been thinking and let his hands skim along her sides.

"Wait," he said when she kissed his neck. "Baby, hang on. Wait, please."

She pulled back, nose scrunched. "What's the matter? Worried about lipstick stains? Don't worry; you won't have your clothes on for long."

"Olivia, no." He gripped her waist and gently pushed her away. "This isn't what I want."

She stood frozen a moment, her brow creased and her mouth soft, before her eyes flicked away and she swallowed. "Oh. Right. I—I should've taken the hint. Sorry, I—"

"Stop." He ran a frustrated hand down his face. "Stop pretending. Stop acting how you think I _want_ you to be and just be _you_. I want _you_, Olivia. Do you get that? Just you."

There was a quiet moment while she stared at him. "I don't understand," she said, softly.

"I'm starting to get that."

She crossed her arms over her chest and dipped her head. "I don't know how to be any other way, Ortiz. You said Jax and Opie warned you. You said you knew better than to fall for me. This's me. This's who I am. It's not a cakewalk. It's not—it's not something you really want to be a part of."

He had no idea how to explain it to her, but he knew if he didn't at least try she'd walk out and maybe never speak to him again. "The girl I was with Friday night. The girl I was with under the pine trees. Hell, even the girl I was with the night I found you on the side of the road! That's the girl I—that's you, Liv. That's you without all this pretense and bullshit. You don't _need_ it. Not with me."

She spun away. Ripped a tissue from the box on the table and scrubbed it across her mouth. "I _am_ pretense and bullshit, Juice. It's all I've got."

"That's not true. I don't understand how you can't see—" He broke off with a scowl. She didn't even want him, not the way he wanted her, so why was he trying so goddamn hard?

"Why've you been avoiding me all week?" she said.

"Because I'm an idiot."

She turned toward him with a snort. "If I believed that I wouldn't be bothering."

He made a face. "I don't know, Liv."

They eyed each other across the space that separated them, and for a moment it felt like a gulf. He knew he had a choice to make: fight for her, fight past all her insecurities and reservations, or let her go. He had no idea if she'd ever feel the same way he did, but he thought, maybe, they were too good together to just give up.

He had to come clean with her or they wouldn't stand a chance.

"I like you so much," he finally said. "Friday was crazy and amazing, and I think about you all the time."

"But…?" she said when he hesitated.

"I know you don't like me, not the same way I—and I thought I was okay with it, and I am, mostly, but then you go and say we're chocolate cake and I don't know what to think."

A quick gesture stopped him. "Hang on," she said. "I'm confused. I _like_ chocolate cake. I was trying to explain—"

"No, I know. I get what you meant about your thing with Mr. C being cotton candy, and I hope it doesn't weird you out when I say I was really glad to hear it. Like, relieved I guess. But the thing is, I don't wanna be chocolate cake with you."

She gave a slow blink. "I'm not following the metaphor anymore. Could you clarify for me?"

He let out a hard sigh. "Chocolate cake's great. My favorite, like I said. But it's still just dessert. It's not good for you. It doesn't fill you up. It's like a quick sugar high and then it's gone. You've got a sugar headache and kind of a tummy ache and you're wishing you hadn't had quite so much chocolate cake even though it was way good at the time."

Her mouth fell open. "Ohh…" she said. She shook her head a little. "So what do you want to be?"

"Pot roast."

"Pot roast?" she repeated, nonplussed.

"It's good. Like, comfort food. You eat pot roast and yeah okay maybe you're a little too full because you ate too much, but at the same time you feel really good because it's just like, _yeah, pot roast_."

She pressed a hand to her face to smother a laugh. Pot roast? Somehow she got what he meant, as out-there as it seemed, and her expression sobered as the implications sank in. "I've never…I have no idea how to do that, Juice. I've never been pot roast with somebody before."

"Yeah, me neither," he said with a rueful, self-deprecating smile.

His face went still and he stepped toward her. "I get you're scared, Livvie. I get you're goin' through some serious shit. I don't wanna put more pressure on you or make you do something you don't want. I _do_ wanna be there for you. If you'd let me. Because you're cool and I laugh a lot when I'm with you and…I don't know. Even when I'm kinda frustrated with you you still make me…"

"Make you what?" she said. Her eyes were big and nervous, her body tense like she might bolt at any second.

"You make me happy, Olivia. Being with you, and I don't just mean sex so please don't think that, makes me happy. I want to make you happy, too."

Happy. She made him _happy_. Was it really that simple? She cleared her throat and brushed at her face. "You didn't say I'm cute or have a nice rack."

"What? You want me to say that, too? Okay. You're cute and have a nice rack. Your ass is good, too, and your legs look _smokin'_ in those socks." He waved a hand. "All that's just _stuff_, Liv. Yeah, okay, I like looking at you, but if that's all it was I'd be fine with chocolate cake."

He reached for her, and when she didn't flinch or step back he cupped her face. Ran his thumb over her mouth and smiled a little. "Wish you hadn't taken it off. It's sexy when it's all smeared because I've been kissing you."

The roughness in his voice sent a shiver through her. She drifted closer. "Who says you would've been kissing me?"

"Just a hunch I had. Maybe I was wrong."

His dark gaze was steady, warming, and she felt a flush spread across her cheeks.

"You really like my socks?"

"They're awesome," he said without dropping her eyes.

"I wore them for you. Stupid, I guess. I don't usually do things like that."

He broke out in a grin. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. You scared me, Juicy. I know it seems like what we did Friday was no big deal to me, or easy or something, but that's not true. It meant something. It actually meant a _lot_, and it was a _huge_ deal. The reason I don't want to have sex with you has more to do with me than you, and it's because I'm just not ready. That probably sounds ridiculous, considering."

"No it doesn't." He brushed his hand back through her hair. "I'm not sure I'm ready, either."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

He blushed. "I know. Especially after the last time we were in here together, right?" His mouth twisted and he shrugged. "It's weird, because if you'd asked me a few weeks ago I'd be down as hell. But I guess you sorta changed my mind."

"I made you not want to have sex with me?"

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. "Okay, so that came out wrong. I just meant…I like what we're doing. I like taking it in steps. Yeah, it might be a weird line to draw considering what we did Friday, but it's not the same thing."

"The importance of vaginal penetration is really over-inflated in Western culture," she said.

He let out a huff, half amused half frustrated. "You gotta stop thinking so hard about everything."

"I can't help it. It's just the way I'm wired."

"Yeah, and I'm wired to do stupid shit because I don't _ever_ think it through. So maybe we can help each other out a little bit."

Her face clouded as she remembered what Tara had said to her that day: _you smooth each other's rough edges_. She'd never wanted her rough edges smoothed before. She'd never wanted someone close enough to even really _see_ her rough edges.

"What'd I say?"

His voice brought her back, but only kind of vaguely. "What?"

"Your face got weird. Sorta freaked out. What'd I say?"

"Nothing," she said. She focused on him again. "I just realized something, that's all."

"Something good?"

She smiled, slow and sweet. "I think so."

He couldn't help but grin back. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Please," she said.

His free hand slid around her waist and he pulled her against him. He studied her face like he'd never seen it before, or like he was trying to memorize it. Her smile turned teasing, and her eyes drifted down to his mouth.

"You gonna make me beg, Ortiz?" she murmured.

"There's an idea," he said. "No. I just like lookin' at you."

"You said that already."

"I guess I really meant it."

He lowered his head and she lifted up and they met somewhere in the middle. His fingers tightened in her hair and her arms curled over his shoulders. His lips parted to let her tongue brush against his. The spark roared to life with a vengeance. He must have felt it, too, because he groaned a little and squeezed her ass. Let go with a frustrated growl to run his hand under her skirt.

She jerked back and he cursed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"No, it's fine. That's fine. I just—I really want to be making out with you right now. I really want your hand up my skirt. It's why I wore the damn thing after all. I'm still just a little unclear on a few things, and I'd like to get them straightened out before I forget."

"Okay," he said. He looked kind of fuzzy-eyed. She pulled his hand off her ass and moved it back up to her hip.

"Tell me what you want, Ortiz. From me. Try not to use food metaphors. I need to make sure I know what page you're on even if I'm not quite there with you."

"Oh." It was good she'd moved his hand, because honestly the first thing that popped into his head when she asked him what he wanted was _my face buried in your cunt_, but he figured that wasn't what she meant.

"I'm not going to freak out," she said at his hesitation. "I promise."

He took a deep breath and plunged in. "I want people to know about us. I'm all for keeping things private; it's nobody's fucking business what we do; but I don't want to _hide_. Secrets suck, Liv. They always come out and somebody gets hurt somehow. We at least need to tell our friends because it feels weird keepin' it from them."

"Tara already knows."

"Yeah, I know," he said, dryly. "She made that clear on Friday." He paused. "She also said if I tried to push you you'd run the other way. Am I pushing you, Liv?"

She was biting her lip again, but after a moment she shook her head and managed a smile. "No, Juicy. I just—I wanna be sure you know what you could be in for. My reputation is so fucked up. It'll drag you down. People will talk shit about you. They'll talk shit _to_ you. It sucks, and I don't want you to think any of it'll be easy."

"Olivia, how many times do I have to tell you I don't care about all that?"

"I know you don't, but—"

"You do."

"I do." She lifted a hand in a shrug. "I try not to. And if it were just me it wouldn't matter as much, but I don't want you to have to put up with it. It shouldn't be something you have to take on."

He pressed his forehead against hers. "Clue it in, Olivia. I _want_ to take it on. I want to take _you_ on, which is kind of a scary thought to be honest."

Her face scrunched. "I'm not that bad."

"You kinda are. Which weirdly is part of what I like so much about you."

She lifted a brow. "You love a challenge."

"I really the fuck do."

Her eyes drifted shut, and it was a long time before she opened them again. "Okay," she said.

"Okay…? Okay what?"

"Okay we'll stop keeping it a secret. I'm still not sure I can be your girlfriend, like your actual, full-on girlfriend, but—"

"That's okay. I'm really good with the way things are. I just need to know…I don't want other guys lookin' at you, Olivia."

"You're with the wrong girl, Ortiz," she said with a snort. "That ship sailed months ago."

"I know. But I guess maybe I don't want other girls lookin' at me, either. I want people to know we're otherwise occupied."

It surprised a laugh out of her. "You that scared of Katie Adams?"

"More scared you'll get suspended for pulling her hair out by the roots and then your dad will send you to boarding school and I'll never see you again."

"And you say you don't think things through." The dimple appeared in her chin and her bright eyes danced. "You're quite the catch, you know. Cute new guy who broke up with Dana Riley for reasons unknown and hangs out with Jax Teller and Opie Winston? You could have just about any girl in this school."

"Ha," he said, clearly embarrassed. "That's crazy."

"Maybe. Doesn't make it any less true."

"There's only one girl I want, Olivia. If you don't want me back I'll figure out a way to deal, but you gotta know you're the only girl I think about."

"Of course I want you back. I keep _telling_ you that." She stopped short as everything suddenly snapped into focus. Of course. Wow she was an idiot sometimes.

She told him that over and over, and then insisted that they keep their relationship a secret. She told him she wanted him and then turned around and made it look like she didn't want him _enough_ to tell people about it. She'd kept Ben a secret, too, because she had something to hide. So what must Juice think about why she wouldn't tell anyone about _them_? No matter what she said to the contrary it looked like she was ashamed, and it made all the words in the world ring hollow.

"I'm a jerk, Ortiz. Like a real, full-on jerk. We can tell anyone you want. Everybody. Cut down a forest and wallpaper the place in flyers."

"Let's not go overboard," he said. "I'm just talkin' about a little hand-holding and maybe the occasional public kiss."

"My dad will think you're my boyfriend if we start that nonsense."

"Just tell him you're using me for sex and I got demanding."

She laughed, free and golden, and her eyes narrowed as they locked on his. "You're so goddamn cute, Juicy."

"Yeah, yeah."

But she could tell it thrilled him to hear it.

"Sexy, too," she murmured as her mouth found his.

"You just want me for my body, Gable. I know the truth."

"Your face is nice, too."

"Oh. Well that's okay then."

They both grinned like idiots.

"We should get out of here before I jump you," she said.

"_You_ jump _me_? You're the one who wore an outfit specifically calculated to make me drool."

"Did it work?" she said, her eyes big and innocent.

"Not even close," he said as he nodded _yes_.

"Then we should definitely get out of here."

"Wait, before we go." He frowned and looked down at his boots. Maybe he should just quit while he was ahead.

"What? Don't stop now."

"I was wondering if you're gonna go on the camping thing this weekend."

It was a three-day weekend, so Jax and Opie had gotten it in their heads to go to Opie's dad's cabin. She and Tara had told Donna's parents there was a youth retreat with church, and they'd even printed up a permission slip for it. That was a lot of effort for her to bail now.

"Yeah, Ortiz. I'm going camping. Are you?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Why wouldn't I want you to come camping with our group of friends? That would be weird."

"No, I just mean—it'll be Tara and Jax and Donna and Opie, so we're gonna get stuck together a lot. If that's gonna be awkward for you I can stay home. I'm sure my mom can find some more shit for me to do," he said and rolled his eyes.

She pulled his face down for a long kiss. "I don't know, babe. Being stuck alone in the woods with you doesn't sound half bad."

"Yeah?" he breathed.

"I think we can figure out how to make the best of it. Don't you? The mind fair boggles at all the possibilities."

He nodded, his eyes big. Then, "I can't believe your dad is letting you go."

"Oh, he thinks Donna's parents are going." She pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't tell."

"I'd never."

He tangled his fingers in her hair and captured her mouth. She nibbled his lip. Sucked on it. He pulled back a little and watched her face as he started to unbutton her shirt.

"Juicy, what are you doing?"

"I just wanna see," he said, his voice rough.

"See what?"

He undid only the first few buttons, then spread it open. His mouth curved in a cocky half-smile and he lowered his head to brush a kiss over the fading mark he'd left Friday night.

"That," he said. "Maybe I'll make another one on the other side sometime soon."

"And maybe I'll let you," she said, sweetly. She stepped back and fixed her top. "Come on, Ortiz. Let's get out of here so I can start showing you off to everybody."

He laced his fingers through hers and grinned down at her. "Lead on, beautiful."

* * *

_Nice of Olivia to finally clue in. Poor girl. Like Tara said, she may be smart about a lot of things, but when it comes to relationships she really has no idea._

_I spent yesterday doing a bit of plotting/outlining, but getting it all organized and on the page might be a bit of a challenge. Any reviews or encouragement you guys wanted to throw my way would really help a lot. :) And for those of you who have, thank you! I appreciate and love every one of you._


	22. The Reason

Camping. In the woods. Sort of. A lot of nonsense can go down in the woods.

* * *

**how can you be so warm?**  
**how can you know what I feel?**  
**well it's the way you move your hands**  
**and it's the way you understand**

**and that's the reason that i'm asking**  
**that's the reason that i want to know**  
**and that's the reason that i'm asking**  
**and that's the reason that i'm...**  
Better Than Ezra, "In the Blood"

Olivia was glad tomorrow was the start of their three-day weekend, and that they'd already decided to go to the cabin. It wasn't quite as bad as she'd been expecting when she and Juice walked down the hall holding hands, but it still wasn't great. He'd squeezed her fingers and cast her his warm, reassuring smile, and she'd squared her shoulders and lifted her chin and dared anyone to say something to their faces.

No one had, and by last period things had calmed down. Tara looked smug and Jax sort of rolled his eyes. Donna seemed thrilled and Opie looked kind of…not unhappy, exactly, but apprehensive. He knew what it could be like to fall (or at least half-fall, because the way he felt about Donna was completely different from how he'd felt about Ollie, and at the time he'd thought he was _really_ into Ollie) for her, and he hoped Juice knew what he was in for.

After last bell they split. Olivia had to run home to drop off her dad's truck and grab her bag, and then Tara was picking her up in the Cutlass. Donna and Tara would've been happy to ride with Opie and Jax, but Olivia couldn't do two hours on the back of a motorcycle. As a result the girls were taking Tara's car while the guys rode their bikes.

They spent the ride up gossiping and chatting, happy to be hanging out without the guys for once. The three of them rarely got together, and Olivia sometimes worried it was because of her history with Opie. She didn't want Donna to feel uncomfortable around her, or think that she had any sort of hard feelings toward _Donna_—or still had any feelings at all for Ope that went beyond platonic. She thought maybe the thing with Juice had soothed things over a little.

That, of course, was a hot topic of conversation. Olivia was stretched out in the backseat, her legs draped along the bench, and she had her head back and eyes closed as Tara and Donna talked.

She heard Juice's name and cracked an eyelid. "My ears are burning," she said.

Tara turned the radio down and gave her a look in the rearview mirror. "I was just saying it looks like you and Juice worked things out."

"Hum." She'd told Tara how he'd been avoiding her since Friday, and Tara had assured her (as was a best friend's duty) that he was probably just layin' low to avoid his mom's wrath. "I guess he wasn't as cool with keeping things hush-hush as he said. He thought—like, I can't blame him, because it sorta looked like I was ashamed of him or something."

"He seems like a real sensitive guy," Donna said.

Olivia hitched a shoulder. "Most of them are, once you get past the crusty exterior. Juice just carries it a little closer to the surface."

Tara cleared her throat. "So, Ollie, I sort of recruited Donna to our cause."

Donna smacked her on the arm. "Tara! Ollie doesn't wanna hear—"

"It's okay. You and Ope are so much better than he and I ever were. I'm glad you guys found each other."

Donna cast a smile over her shoulder, and her cheeks were pink. "Thanks, Ollie. He really likes you a lot, you know? I don't mean in a romantic way, just that he cares. He's been wigged out since all this shit with TJ started."

Olivia was touched. "See what I mean? Talk about an iceberg."

"Iceberg?" Tara said.

"A little bit on the surface and a whole, whole lot hidden away where you can't see."

Donna's mouth quirked. "That's my guy," she said.

She swung her legs off the seat and leaned forward. "How's it going? I think Tara's experiment has been largely successful."

"Oh it's working," Donna said with a grin. She rolled her eyes. "When we can get time alone that is."

"You've got a whole weekend now," Tara said. "_And_ a bedroom all to yourselves."

"Are you guys seriously going to spend the whole weekend fucking?" Olivia said. "What are Juice and I supposed to do?"

"Wait," Donna said and held up a hand. "You and Juice aren't—?"

"Not exactly," Olivia said. "Kind of…a whole lot of other things but not that _one_ thing, which is really just a detail and I kinda don't get why it's so important."

"Because we've been culturally conditioned to think it is," Tara said, dryly.

"Yup," Olivia agreed. "And I am a product of my culture, hard as I try to fight it." She flicked her fingers. "Anyway, you guys will have bedrooms, but there are only two."

"I brought a tent," Tara said.

"That's a start."

"And beer."

"Also good," Olivia said.

Donna made a face. "I hate beer," she said.

"I know you do," said Tara. "So I also brought vodka. Plus, seriously, Piney keeps like every type of liquor you can imagine up here and he won't care if we raid it as long as we pay him for it."

"Wow. Not an open bar at _chez_ Piney," Olivia said. "So basically it sounds like your plan is to get stoned, drink, and fuck your boyfriend all weekend."

Tara snorted. "He and Ope wanna go hiking tomorrow. Hiking? Are you kidding? Maybe we can find something to do while they're gone."

Olivia wasn't too keen on hiking. Short ones were okay, but back when they used to come up here when they were kids they would wander for hours. Jax still loved that, and Opie was never far behind. These days she just couldn't keep up, and it wasn't really worth the pain to try.

"I'll talk Juice into going with them. He's sort of weirded out by the great wide open, city boy that he is, but I won't mention snakes and he should be fine."

"Or cougars," Tara said.

"Or bears," said Donna.

"There won't be any bears this time of year. They're still all sleepy and hibernating." She paused. "Right? When do bears wake up? The only thing I really know about bears I learned from Winnie the Pooh."

"It's true they think with their tummies," Tara said, "but I'm pretty sure that's about the only thing they have in common with silly ol' bear."

"Yeah I won't mention them either."

* * *

The boys insisted on building a fire in the backyard—observing proper fire safety procedures, of course—and they all sat around it smoking and gorging themselves on s'mores. They had a bottle of tequila going around, too, but Olivia passed on that and concentrated on her marshmallows and chocolate.

Juice sat next to her. She leaned against his shoulder and he watched her lick the mess off her fingers with big eyes. Winking at him, she leaned closer. "Melted marshmallow kind of reminds me of something."

A drop of it had landed on the back of her hand, and she swirled her finger through it. "But maybe I'm just imaging things." She stuck out her tongue and pressed her fingertip against it.

"You're an evil temptress, Olivia Gable," he said.

"Guilty," she said with an unrepentant smirk.

"Oh God," Tara said. "If I ever see another marshmallow again I might die."

Jax laughed and kissed her neck. "We brought hotdogs, too."

"Ooo, hotdogs!" Donna said.

Olivia opened her mouth but Juice squeezed her hand. "No," he said.

She pressed her lips together and tried not to giggle. "Anything else on the menu?"

"Peanut butter and jelly," said Tara.

"Ooo, peanut butter and jelly!" Donna said.

They cracked up. Opie laughed so hard he fell off his log and spilled the tequila.

"Fuck motherfuck goddamn!"

"Quit cussin' at it and pick it up, dumbass," Jax said.

"I think Donna's the cutest when she's stoned," Olivia said.

"Seconded," said Opie.

"Tara's the meanest," Jax muttered.

"Nice, Teller. See how laid you get tonight."

"Aw, baby, don't be like that," he said. He tackled her and she shrieked as they tumbled off their log and rolled across the ground.

"You're the sexiest, stoned or not," Juice murmured in Olivia's ear.

"Don't gotta lay it on so thick, Ortiz," she said. "I'm a sure thing."

"Ohh, well in that case forget it. Opie's the sexiest."

She slapped a hand across her mouth and laughed so hard tears came to her eyes.

Jax tossed Tara over his shoulder and smacked her ass. "To bed, woman!" he said. "Gotta remind you who's boss."

"In your dreams," she said.

"There've been a few," he agreed.

They disappeared inside and Donna stood up to brush dirt off her jeans. "Come on, Ope. I'm not as hungry as I thought."

He grinned at her and threw an around her. "Night, Ollie, Juice," he said.

"Night, guys," Olivia said. "Try to keep it down, okay? Don't wanna wake any bears."

"Bears?" Juice said.

She patted his knee. "I didn't mean it. There're no bears."

"Except Winnie the Pooh," Donna said and giggled. She and Opie made their unsteady way to the back porch and the door closed behind them.

A silence fell. She glanced at Juice. He watched her from the corner of his eye.

"You gonna kiss me, Juan Carlos, or do you need an engraved invitation?"

He twisted toward her and grabbed her waist to pull her against him. "You could've changed clothes," he said with a glower.

"Where's the fun in that?"

He crushed his mouth against hers and hauled her into his lap. She gripped his jacket with both hands and sucked his lip into her mouth. His hands were everywhere: gliding over her thighs just above her stockings, sliding up her ribcage, squeezing her ass beneath her skirt.

She ground against him and felt his erection through his pants. She whimpered as he gathered handfuls of her hair and scraped his tongue against hers.

"Want you so bad, baby," he said in a slurring whisper.

"The tent. We can't—out here—"

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, okay. The fire—"

"I'll get it." She slid off his lap and tossed the bucket of water over the smoldering coals. There was a huge hiss of steam and the smell of wet wood filled the air. She scattered it with a stick to make sure nothing still burned, and once she was satisfied she held out a hand to him.

Their fingers entwined as he pushed himself up. "I've never been camping before," he said, wonderingly.

"Welcome to California."

He grinned at her. "Had no idea I would like it so much."

She unzipped the tent and dropped down to scoot backwards into it. Took off her boots and set them near the door. "Come here," she said, crooking a finger at him.

He crawled in next to her and tossed his boots beside hers. She frowned and set them together neatly.

"You're cute," he said.

"Am I?"

"Completely."

"Hhmm." She turned toward him and pushed him back against the sleeping bags. "Do you like it better when I'm cute, or when I'm sexy?"

"I like both." He ran his fingers through her hair. "They're both you."

"Clever boy," she murmured just before their lips met. "Hang on," she said when he would've deepened the kiss. "I think we're gonna need a little light."

She dug the electric lantern out and flicked it to its lowest setting. "Much better. I like to be able to see what's happening."

"Me too," he said. "I love watching your face when you come."

A blush touched her cheeks. "You've only seen it once."

"I know. And I liked it." His mouth quirked. "Was sorta hoping I'd get to see it again tonight."

"Me too," she said. She brought his hand to her lips and sucked one of his fingers between them. Enjoyed the breathy noise he made at the feel of her tongue on his skin. "I was thinking we could start by seeing how well you've retained last week's lesson, and then move on to something new."

"Sounds good," he said in a thick voice. "What did you have in mind?"

She caught his fingertip between her teeth. "Can't you guess, baby? Tonight's lesson is all about _fingering_."

* * *

It turned out he'd retained last week's lesson extremely well. She lay whimpering as his mouth and fingers worked her nipples, alternating back and forth between them until they were both swollen and aching, but when his hand started to drift up her skirt she stopped him.

"Whoa there, cowboy," she said. "We've got a few things to cover before you get there."

He pulled away. "I didn't read it wrong, did I? You seem pretty ready."

"Oh yeah. Super ready. No worries there." She smiled and gently pushed his shoulder until he flipped onto his back. "Let's get these pesky clothes off you, baby."

She rucked the hem of his shirt up and kissed him just above the waist of his pants. Trailed her mouth up his body and stripped it off. She straddled his legs and leaned down to kiss him as she unfastened his pants and drew down the zipper. Her hand stopped just short of touching his cock and he let out a frustrated his.

There were two buttons on her short black skirt: one on the left, the other on the right. She undid them and just like that her skirt was off, unwrapped and tossed aside. He gaped at her.

"Holy crap," he said. "That was just like Liv Tyler in _Empire Records_."

Her brow quirked in acknowledgement. "Funny you should say that."

The sight of her in nothing but white cotton panties and those damn striped socks was incredibly distracting. His hands trailed up her smooth thighs. "How come?" he said.

"I'll tell you later." She stretched out beside him and gave his pants leg a little tug.

He took the hint and stripped them off. She bit her lip at the sight of his black boxer briefs. He had amazing legs, thick thighs and well-muscled calves, and a cute little butt. The fitted underwear only enhanced the view.

"Nice," she murmured.

"What?" he said. "You like these?"

"They're sort of a weakness of mine," she said.

He smirked. "I'll keep that in mind." He tapped her leg. "The socks are a weakness of mine."

"Duh," she said with a grin.

"Think you could leave them on?" he rasped. He pressed a kiss to the center of her chest and she ran her fingers over his hair.

"I was planning on it, baby."

He flicked the waistband of her panties. "What about these?"

"Nope," she said. "Those can go." She wiggled out of them and he let out a hard breath. He reached for her, but she caught his hand in hers. "Not so fast, handsome. I told you we had some things to cover."

He made a face. "Liv, I know how to—"

"Do you? Because honestly in my experience this is actually the hardest part for a guy to get right. Admittedly my experience is two guys who didn't know what they were doing and one who did, but still."

His brows drew together. He'd agreed to follow her rules, hadn't he? And he could always stand to learn more. Anything to get her making those desperate little noises again.

She could tell by his expression that he'd conceded the point. "Turn over, Juicy. On your side."

He rested his hand on her belly and kissed the side of her neck. "Help me, Obi Wan Kenobe. You're my only hope."

"I better be." He bit her ear and she giggled. "Okay, okay. Basics first. Guys act like a woman's orgasm is the most complicated, elusive thing ever, but honestly it's super fucking easy: get her turned on, then go for the clit. That's it. Clitoris."

"I know what a clit is, Olivia."

She grinned at his affronted tone. "Of course you do, baby. I'm just trying to demystify it for you."

He cleared his throat. "I don't get it. The other night on the phone, and then last week…it seemed like you came pretty easy. So why…I mean, why would Asia and Dana not get off? And why would it be hard for you to before?"

"The thing that differentiates a girl's orgasm from a guy's is the time it takes. It can take a girl as long as twenty minutes to come, but a guy…?"

"Ah. So, like, we're in a big hurry and we sorta leave you behind?"

"Yup. And because no one's bothered to teach you how _not_ to leave us behind, and because so many girls fake it, you don't know any better."

He tickled her ribs just to make her wiggle. "So why do girls fake it?"

"A lot of reasons. Maybe they're not super into it and just wanna get it over with." She shrugged a little at his expression. "It happens. A lot of it, though, is that women aren't taught about their own pleasure, either. So maybe they don't even really know what an orgasm is, or what it should feel like. We're taught, both subtly and explicitly in a thousand tiny ways, that men are more important than we are, and that our experience doesn't even really matter that much."

"That's stupid."

"No shit. It's advantageous to men to advance this myth that a woman's orgasm is some mythical, unattainable thing because then they can still clap themselves on the back when they completely and totally fail to satisfy the women they fuck. _Good try, old man! You know how those lady parts are! It's like the goddamn Amazonian rain forest in there!_"

He laughed hard enough to lose his balance and fall against her. "Wow, Liv."

"Well. Am I lying?"

"No," he said. "I guess not."

"Okay. So now you'll know and it won't be a mystery and every single woman you sleep with after me will owe me cookies."

He ducked his head. They were in high school, for fuck's sake. Of course there'd be other girls after her. And there'd be other guys after him, but that was the _last_ thing he wanted to think about.

He took a deep breath. "So where do we start?"

"You've already done a fine and thorough job of the turning me on part, so now we can move along to regions further south. Take note, m'love: don't touch my pussy until you have me panting."

"Duly noted," he said with a salute and a cocky grin.

She took his hand and guided him between her legs. "Some anatomy first," she said. "Labia majora, outer lips."

"Did you shave?" he said, surprised and way more turned on than he thought he would be. "I mean, last week, too. Because that day in the break room…"

"I got a wax. A little," she said, blushing. "I don't like the completely bare look."

"Me neither. Maybe it's the red; I don't know; but it's super sexy."

She flashed him a pleased grin. "I thought it would be easier if things were, you know. Smooth. Line of sight issues, I guess."

"You really do think a lot, don't you?"

"Nothing wrong with being prepared. Now, are you paying attention?"

"Outer lips," he repeated. "Uh huh."

"Good."

She kissed him. Used his fingers to spread herself open. His breath caught when he felt how wet she was, and hers quickened as his fingertip trailed against her.

"Labia minora," she said, her voice going husky. "Inner lips. Very sensitive, especially when aroused."

"I noticed," he said and stroked her again.

She bit her lip to muffle a small moan.

"Focus, Gable," he said.

"You focus, Ortiz," she grumbled. She shook her head to clear it and slid his finger into her just a little. "Vagina. Fairly self-explanatory."

"Wait a sec. I thought the whole thing was the vagina."

"No, babe. The whole thing is the vulva. The vagina is literally just the part you stick your penis in."

"Oh," he said, nonplussed. "Good to know."

She added her finger to his and tried to keep her voice steady. "Hook your fingers a little. Like that, yeah. Just like that." Her eyes closed and she moved her hips against their hands.

He nibbled the side of her neck. "Getting distracted, baby?"

"Nuh uh," she whispered. "Um. Do you feel that? It's sorta—fuck oh _God_ don't _press_ on it I'm trying to _talk_ here."

"Hum." He did it again, a little harder. "You like that, huh?"

"It's my G-spot. You bet your ass I like that."

"Ohhh," he said, fascinated. He flexed his finger inside her and brushed back and forth across it. "So I guess it's more than just…shoving your fingers in and out, huh?"

"A little." She grabbed his wrist and pulled him away. "Behave. We haven't even gotten to the main event yet."

"I'm listening," he said.

She swallowed and licked her lips. "I can come just from G-spot stimulation, but not all women can. _Most_ women—myself included—like that combined with"—she slid his finger north—"clitoral stimulation."

"Ah." He tapped the little button and she let out a sharp gasp.

"So, um. You can make just about any woman come by just playing with her clit a whole lot. But that's kinda boring, so it's better if you—Juicy, holy shit hang _on_—mix it up a little."

"You mean like…" He spread his fingers and rubbed her inner lips, back and forth. "Then maybe…" He brushed his fingertip around her clit without actually touching it. Slid down to dip inside and then back up to flick over it. "Something like that?"

"Uh huh," she said with a drunken nod. "I really like…um, the thing you just did. From my clit, inside, and then back. Slow at first, and then—" She broke off with a moan. He had two fingers against her clit and was massaging it in lazy circles.

He nuzzled her ear and kissed the spot just behind it. "You ready for me to make you come, baby?"

"Yes!" she gasped. "Please, Juicy!"

He groaned and thrust two fingers into her. Her hips came up off the sleeping bag when he twisted them to press against the back wall. His knuckles hit her G-spot as he worked them in and out.

"Oh God," she moaned. "That's so good, baby, oh God yes…!"

"You want me to play with your clit some too?" he said in that low rasp that sent shivers down her spine.

"Yeah," she said on a whimper. "Yeah, babe, please."

He rotated his hand again, and his thumb rubbed across the swollen nub. She hooked her arm against his chest to tangle her fingers in his hair. Her mouth fell open as her breath came in deep, shuddering gasps.

"That's right, Livvie," he grated between kisses to her neck. "So good, baby. So goddamn sexy." He licked a drop of sweat from her temple. A fistful of sleeping bag in her free hand, the knee opposite him bent, and her hips moving with his thrusts. "Come for me, Livvie. Let me feel your sweet cunt as you come on my hand."

He'd caught on really fast to how much she loved hearing his voice. She was so close, right on the edge, and the sound of those rough whispers in her ear sent her flying over it.

"Fuck!" she cried. She clenched around him, her entire body going tight, and dissolved into a chant of his name punctuated by wordless panting. "Don't stop!" she moaned and he worked her G-spot through the shudders.

Finally it began to subside, and as she spiraled down she grabbed his hand. "Okay stop now," she said with a breathless laugh.

"Wow," he said. He rested his slick fingers against her thigh, just above her sock, and she pulled his hand to her mouth to suck one of them clean. Lifted a brow in his direction and he sucked on the other one. Moaned at the musky taste of her. "Fuck, Livvie."

"You like the way I taste, Juicy?"

His head lifted and fell in a nod. "You know I do. I wanna lick your pussy so bad."

"Patience, young grasshopper. You're making excellent progress." Her brow furrowed. "It usually isn't quite _this_ easy, you should know."

"For you, you mean?"

"Yep." She shifted a little. "I sometimes…it can be hard for me to relax. Let go, you know?"

"I've noticed that problem other places, but not here," he said with a wry tilt to his mouth.

"Are you calling me a control freak?"

He lifted a hand. "You said it, babe, not me."

She sighed and carded her fingers through his hair. "I am. It's true."

He hesitated. "Was it…did you ever have trouble like that…with, uh, Ben?"

"Glad you stopped calling him _Mr. Collins_. Um. Sometimes. I mean, not after we'd been together a little bit, but at first, yeah."

"But you're saying it's not like that with me."

"Maybe that's the difference between pot roast and cotton candy?" she said, grinning.

"I kinda think it is," he said. He ran his thumb over her nipple. "You trust me, Liv. Right?"

"Yeah, Juicy," she said after a moment. "Of course I do."

"Good. I trust you, too."

She cast him a look. "Is there something on your mind?"

"Not particularly, but I think there's maybe something on yours." His tone was easy, casual, and he pressed his mouth against her jaw as he said it.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't know. What did you mean earlier?"

"Ah," she said as she clued in. "Did you know already?"

"That you're into girls? Yeah. I've known a while."

"Oh. Who—?"

"Jax or Opie mentioned it sometime, like it was no big deal. And it's not. At least not to me." He studied her face. "I guess maybe I don't understand what that's all about. Clearly you like what we do, but you...like girls?"

"It's called bisexuality, babe. I like both."

"At the same time?" he said, his brows lifting.

"I've never tried that. Maybe. But in general, no."

"Did that question piss you off?"

She thought it over. "Sort of. But not because of you; I know you didn't mean anything by it. It's just that…people have all these ideas about what bisexuals are, like that we're promiscuous and confused and greedy." Her mouth quirked. "I'm greedy, I'll give them that. I want all the cute boys _and_ all the cute girls!"

He grinned. "At the same time?"

"Shut up, Ortiz," she said. "I'm not any different than someone's who's straight or gay. Just like you see a girl and might think she's cute, maybe even imagine…something, I don't know what goes on in your head…I do the same thing. But just because you think someone's attractive doesn't mean you're going to try to fuck them."

He let out a breath. "Just seems like…a slightly bigger pool of people to pick from."

"Well it is. Sort of, because I mean they have to be gay or bi or straight, depending, to be interested in me. And it doesn't make any difference anyway: just because I'm attracted to a wider variety of people doesn't make me any more likely to act on it."

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Have you ever had sex with a girl?"

"Nope. You know who I've had sex with. Well, the one guy I just sort of mentioned in passing is some dude named Justin Fitzhugh. He moved away over the summer." She smiled at him a little. "I have made out with a girl."

"Oh. And it was…?" He didn't know what word to use. Good? Hot? He didn't want to offend her, but he was insanely curious, and only partially because it was a turn on. Knowing that would probably piss her off.

"It was fine. She was a stranger, so it wasn't super hot or anything." She touched his shoulder. "Just ask what you wanna ask, Juicy. I won't get mad."

His face creased. "How did you know?"

"Um." She grinned. "You know that Aerosmith video with Alicia Silverstone and Liv Tyler?"

"Yeah, Liv. It's kind of unforgettable." He blinked at her. "You—holy shit. You got any idea how many times I jerked off to that video?"

"Probably about as often as I did."

A flush spread across his chest. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't—"

"It's okay. I get that it turns you on. I don't quite understand _why_, but I guess it's just a guy thing."

Their eyes met as he thought it over. "Girls are really pretty," he finally said.

"You're tellin' me."

He grinned, briefly. "So, like, with you. I've been imagining you naked for a long time. That's kinda sleazy, but I can't help it. You're sexy as hell and you turn me on like nobody I've ever met."

"Oh," she said, a soft sound of surprise.

He flashed a sheepish grin. "Come on, Liv, you gotta know that." His fingers brushed her thigh as he dismissed it. "Anyway, when I think about you with your…body…and your mouth and your hair…and then I think of another hot girl and you're all pressed together and—" He broke off and swallowed.

She turned over to face him and captured his mouth with hers. "I guess the idea of me with _two_ girls must _really_ get you going," she murmured against his lips. "Because that's what I used to imagine when I watched that video."

"Haa," he said on a shaky breath. "That might be more than I can handle right now."

Her palm skimmed his belly. "I like turning you on, Ortiz. Normally it pisses me off when a guy fantasizes about me with another girl, but I know it's different with you."

"It is?"

"Yeah. You're not gross. I don't know how to explain it other than that. I never talked about this stuff with Ben. I mean, he knew I'm bi, but I never—we talked about pretty much everything else, but I just didn't want to get into any of this."

"So I guess you do trust me."

"I guess I do. I hope you don't think…I don't tell many people. Jax, Opie, and Tara know. My dad. The girl I made out with, I guess. Ben, like I said. That's it."

"It's kind of a big deal," he said.

"It is. Does it bother you?"

"That you're bi? No, babe. Of course not. Didn't I sorta say that already?"

"I just wanted to make sure." A pause. Then, "I consider us exclusive, Juice."

He frowned at her, confused. "So do I."

"That means I won't be kissing anyone else. Boys or girls."

"I know, Olivia. I don't think you're gonna jump the next hot girl you see. I'm okay. We're okay. Okay?"

Her lips curved. "You realize your dick is pressing against me and it's really fucking distracting."

"You think it's distracting _you_? Every time you breathe I lose my mind a little."

"Oh. I'll hold my breath."

He draped his arm over her to caress her ass. "Not necessary. I prefer you awake."

"High standards, Ortiz."

"I'm a gentleman."

Her breath caught as his fingertip traced the curve of her buttocks. He slid his hand between her legs and trailed the same finger against her slick labia and back, over the tight pucker between her cheeks. She squirmed a little and made a soft, breathy noise.

"You like that?" he said, his voice going husky.

"Uh huh."

He paused. "We're being honest, right? Not holding back just because…I don't know. It might seem too personal?"

She lifted her head to look at him. "At this point what exactly is too personal?"

"I don't know. Maybe some things."

"You can ask me anything, Juicy. I guess there's a tiny possibility I won't answer, but I won't get pissed at you for asking."

He took a long breath and tilted his head in a _here goes_ gesture. "Have you ever thought about trying anal?"

At the look on her face his eyes went round.

"You've _done_ anal," he said, astounded. "Did you—did you like it?"

"Um." She thought it over. "It was…interesting. They say it gets better the more times you do it, and I've only done it twice."

"_Twice_? Olivia, how many dicks have you had in your ass?"

"What a way to put it. Just one, Ortiz. On two separate occasions."

"You guys were only together a month!"

She sighed. "The entire point of the relationship was to explore new things. So. I did." She poked him. "If you're asking if I'd be willing to try anal with you, the answer is yes. Not tonight, obviously, because we don't have the right kind of lube or anything, but maybe sometime."

"The right kind of lube? We've got lube?"

"Oh, Juan Carlos. Your priorities." She sat up and dug through her bag. When she came back she had a small bottle in her hand. "It's massage oil. Great for massages, not so great for sticking your dick in my ass."

"All right, all right, I'm sorry I said it like that."

"You should be sorry. Jerk."

He ran his tongue over her lip. She slid her leg up to wrap around his hips and he ground against her.

"You're so hard, baby," she whispered.

"No shit. I'm actually getting dizzy from the lack of blood getting to my brain."

She giggled. "I think maybe I can help."

"Is it gonna involve massage oil?"

She pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs. "Maybe. If you ask real sweet."

He slid his hands up her body. "I think I can handle that," he said with a grin.

* * *

_This chapter was originally going to be a lot smuttier, but they insisted on having an actual conversation and sidetracked the porn. sigh. _

_I didn't publish yesterday bc I've been so freaking stuck. I finally finished ch24 after working on it for...I don't know. Three days? Four? I think it should be okay now, but any kind words would be so appreciated. :)_

_PS: Um. Hi. So. Sort of in deference to my poor, blocked brain, I started a kind of, um. Secret fic? Over on ao3. It'll only be published there. It's Juice and Olivia post-Come With Me Tonight. But it's serious crack, so it's not like an ACTUAL sequel. Just. Go look if you're interested. My pseud is copperleaves._


	23. A Better Time

Hi, loves. Back again. :) Please see the end notes for a little more info about what's up.

Enjoy!

* * *

**scent of pine drifting by**  
**her hand traces lazy on your neck**  
**sunlight through the trees**  
**recalls a better time**  
Better Than Ezra, "Southern Gurl"

The guys had come back from their hike filthy and exhausted, and Juice declared he was never doing anything like that again and nature was fine for bears and shit but he wanted to stay inside. Forever.

"I told you," Olivia whispered to him later that night. "You shoulda stayed here with me. We could've gone for a nice little walk and made out all day."

He lifted a brow. "I don't think I could stand making out with you all day, Liv," he said under his breath. "Last night almost killed me."

She patted his knee. "Don't be such a baby, Ortiz. You came, didn't you?"

"_Finally_!"

Her lips brushed his temple. "It was only like half an hour. Besides, I didn't exactly hear you complain." She lowered her voice further. "But, then, you were awfully busy begging and moaning my name."

He choked on his beer, and Opie cast them a curious look. "You okay, man?" he said.

"Yeah," Juice said as Olivia patted him on the back. "It just went down the wrong way."

"Try not to choke to death. I think Opie's the only here who knows CPR, and he doesn't wanna give you mouth-to-mouth," Jax said.

"We'd hate to start a gay panic," Olivia said and rolled her eyes.

Tara snickered while Opie and Jax glared at her. Juice was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

Donna reappeared from the bathroom and paused. "What did I miss?"

"Not a damn thing," Tara said. She dragged her chair closer and added a little more vodka to her orange juice. "So we gonna play or not?"

"I'm down," said Donna.

"Sure," Olivia said. "Let's do it."

"What is this game again?" said Juice.

"It's simple," Jax told him. "Basically you say somethin' you haven't done, and anybody who _has_ has to take a drink. I'll go first. Never have I ever…kissed a dude."

Olivia, Donna, and Tara drank.

"Pretty self-explanatory," Olivia said with a grin.

"You next, babe?" Jax said to Tara.

"Okay. Um…never have I ever…had sex in a pool."

Nobody moved, except Juice, who took a long pull off his beer.

"Seriously, dude?" Opie said.

He gave a sheepish shrug. "Dana has a pool."

The guys whistled. "Dana _Riley_ in the _pool_. Go, Ortiz," Jax said.

Juice gave Olivia an apologetic grimace, but she just shrugged. "Before my time, kid. No worries."

Opie was next. "Uh…guess I'll continue the water theme. Never have I ever gone skinny dipping."

Olivia, Juice, and Jax drank. Olivia pointed at Tara. "Lying bitch," she said.

"Oh, shit." Tara giggled and sipped. "I forgot."

"Ouch, babe," Jax said.

"I was drunk. The whole night is kind of a blur."

"How have the three of you been skinny dipping and I haven't?" Opie said.

"It was last summer, man," Jax said. "Your dad made you stay home because you broke that window with the basketball."

"Ohh," he said. "So why didn't anybody tell me about it?"

"Wasn't much to tell," Olivia said. "They actually talked me into drinking for once, so all three of us were kinda looped, and it was a dare."

"No big," Jax said with a shrug.

"My turn now?" Donna said. She'd been watching them through this last little exchange, and she was curious about something. When they nodded that she should go ahead, she took a deep breath. "Never have I ever made out with Olivia."

There was a brief pause, and then everyone except Donna and Olivia raised their cups. "Holy shit," Donna said with a laugh.

Olivia gave a dry shake of her head. "I guess my reputation isn't entirely unearned."

"Wait a minute," Jax and Tara said at the same time.

"_Making out_ is a little bit of an overstatement," Olivia said to Tara. "It was your twelfth birthday party. Seven minutes in heaven?"

"Oh. Fuck, wow, my memory's _shit_. I forgot you guys…" She made a gesture and Olivia laughed.

"She's overrated," Jax said with a wave. "Didn't even use tongue."

"Long time since she was twelve, dude," Juice said.

Olivia glared at Jax and nudged Juice with her shoulder. He grinned, and she couldn't hold the heated look.

"I wanna know why _you_ took a drink, Tara!" Donna said.

She and Olivia shared a glance, and Tara shrugged. "Sally Volstead's Spring Break party last year. Jax wasn't there because we were on a temporary break."

Jax snorted. "One of many that year."

"As so many of our misadventures do, this one began with alcohol," Olivia said.

"We figured what the hell?"

"It lasted like five minutes and we both realized Tara's not into chicks, and I'm not into Tara."

"But such a hot five minutes," Tara said and fanned herself.

"Five of the hottest minutes of my life, baby," Olivia said.

Tara reached for her. Olivia grabbed her hand. They surged to their feet and embraced as the others cracked up laughing.

"Sorry, boys," Tara said. "I think we changed our minds."

"I don't know if I'm pissed or turned on," Jax said.

"Come on, baby," Tara said and pulled him out of his chair. "I'll give you one more shot."

"Don't fuck it up, Jax. I'll be waitin' right here if you do," Olivia said.

He bumped into her and she fell back onto the couch with a laugh. "Watch it, Teller!"

"Oh, sorry, didn't see ya there. Too busy lookin' at my woman."

"Good answer," Tara said. The bedroom door closed behind them and a small silence fell.

She'd landed half on Juice. She craned her neck to look at him. "Nothin' to say?"

"Nope," he said. "I'm good."

She smiled, and the look in her eyes was clear: _if we were alone I'd be kissing you right now_.

Donna cleared her throat. "Ollie, I hope I didn't say the wrong thing."

"What?" Olivia said. She waved a hand. "Nah, of course not. It was funny. If you'd said the same thing about Tara, I think it'd be everyone but you and Ortiz takin' a drink."

Donna looked at Opie. He flushed. "Her twelfth birthday party was a wild time."

"Spin the Bottle is the devil's own party game," Olivia said.

"Hhmm," Donna said. She didn't look mad, exactly, but Olivia thought it might be prudent to give them some time to talk it out.

"Shall we retire, Juan Carlos?" she said over her shoulder.

He'd apparently picked up on the same vibe. He grabbed her around the waist and lifted her to her feet. "Let's hit it," he said.

They all said goodnight, and as the door closed behind them, Olivia and Juice heard Donna say, "Have you kissed Jax, too?"

Olivia giggled and fell against Juice's shoulder. "Wow," she said.

"Uh huh." He caught her by the arms and held on. "You're a little drunk, babe."

"Ugh. This is why I don't drink."

"Because you giggle a lot?"

"More like…" She leaned into him and ran her nose up the side of his neck. "More like I get incredibly horny and I kinda want to rip your clothes off right now."

He froze. The idea had definite appeal…but he thought she might regret it in the morning. And he didn't want to have sex with her for the first time when they were both drunk. It _was_ a small thing, considering everything they'd done together, but it didn't _feel_ small.

"Let's go for a walk," he said. "Sober up a little."

"No clothes-ripping?" she said.

"Nah. I like this shirt." He threw an arm over her shoulders and led her across the yard, away from their tent.

"We have a good time together, don't we, Ortiz?" she said.

"I think we do."

"I don't mean just sex."

"I didn't think you did," he said, mildly.

She hugged his waist. "Let's try something. You down?"

"Uhh…maybe I should find out what it is first."

"Oh." She giggled. "Very cautious of you, sugar. I approve."

They walked a little while longer in silence, until he nudged her. "You gonna tell me or is it a surprise?"

"I'm thinking it over."

"Okay," he said. "Let me know."

About two hundred yards or so from the cabin was a little stream. They hit it now, and Juice turned north (not that he'd know north from south with a map, a compass, and a Boy Scout guide) and they picked their way along it until they came to an open spot, like a little glade.

"It's like your thinking place," Olivia said.

"Yeah, it is." He shrugged out of his jacket and spread it on the ground. She dropped onto it and he sat down next to her. Their lips met, soft and sweet, and with a little sigh she pulled him after her as she stretched out.

"Do you want to have sex with me, Juicy?" she murmured against his mouth.

He raised his head. "Is that what you want to try?"

"Well. No. I was just curious."

He frowned and shifted so that he wasn't on top of her. "You know I do."

"Right now?"

"We're both a little drunk. Not sure it's a great idea."

"I agree."

"Well…good. Glad we settled that." He flipped onto his back, and she turned onto her side to face him. His fingers toyed with hers. "What's on your mind, Liv?"

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "I thought maybe…I thought it might be nice if for the rest of the weekend we just…I don't know. We kept our clothes on? Didn't…mess around, really. Kissing is fine, of course, and maybe some light petting, but…I don't know. Maybe it's a terrible idea."

"No," he said. "No, it's a pretty good idea." It was Friday, which meant they had tonight and tomorrow. Two nights in the tent with her. He could do that. A crease formed across his forehead. "Is everything okay, though?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just—" She laughed a little. "Two reasons. One, it would be nice to see how we are together when we aren't, you know."

"Naked. Right."

"And also." She wrinkled her nose. "I started my period. I get it four times a year because of the Pill I'm on, and it _would_ have to be this weekend."

"Oh. Okay," he said after a brief pause.

She eyed him, suspicious of how nonchalant he sounded. "You aren't gonna freak out, are you?"

He snorted. "Liv, I grew up in a one bathroom apartment with a single mom. I think I'll be okay."

"You've seen a tampon before."

"Uh huh."

She grinned and kissed him. "It's a good excuse for us to actually talk. About something other than sex, I mean."

"I like that idea," he said. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Are you mad I didn't tell you about Tara and me last night?" she said in a rush.

He blinked, taken aback. "Um. No. That didn't occur to me. I figured maybe you guys had one of those girl pacts. You know, no telling anyone."

"We did. But so much for that." She flicked her fingers. "I don't mind you guys knowing, though. I guess she doesn't either. It really wasn't a big deal. It was honestly like kissing…well, you know. Your best friend."

He hesitated. "I've never kissed my best friend," he finally said.

"Oh." She thought about it a second. "So, like. I guess unless the person has nasty breath or is really rough or something, kissing's pretty much always nice, right?"

"It has a lot of things I like," he said. "It's hot. Wet." He ran his thumb over her full lower lip. His voice had gone husky. "Slippery."

"It's been _thirty seconds_, Ortiz."

A grin split his face. "Sorry."

"Sure you are," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I could give you a blowjob if you wanted."

"Wha—? No, Livvie, that's okay. I mean, yeah, I'd love a blowjob, but no. It's fine." He pressed a brief kiss to her mouth. "You were telling me about kissing Tara."

"Hhmm. Well, like I said, it was nice. Like kissing is. But it didn't _do_ anything for either one of us, so that was that."

"End of story?"

"End of story. Sorry to disappoint, baby."

"I think I'll figure out a way to live with it."

"Oh good," she said. "I thought you might. You have enough Liv Tyler/Alicia Silverstone/me three-way imagery in your spank bank to last a lifetime."

He spluttered. "Holy shit, Olivia!"

"Well?"

He sighed. "Yeah."

"Good," she said with a grin.

Maybe he should've taken her up on that offer for a blowjob. He shifted to ease the discomfort in his pants. How the hell did she turn him on so easily? He was sixteen, and random boners were may more common than he was comfortable with, but it seemed like when he was around her it was like constant hard-on.

She must've picked on some of what he was thinking from his face—Juice was actually really terrible at poker—because her mouth curved. "It's funny, isn't it? Like, even when I was trying to convince myself how much I _didn't_ want you, I still _did_."

"Huh. When was that?"

"After Christmas." She blushed. "Before Christmas. Practically from the day we met, but I guess I didn't realize it until the night you picked me up. After the TJ thing."

His brows quirked. "I thought you kinda hated me."

"Basically, yeah. Because when we first met I was trying to convince myself TJ was who I wanted to be with, and then later I was mad because I'd cried all over you—"

"Jax and Ope said that was a one-way ticket to your shit list."

She grimaced. "They weren't wrong. Anyway, then Christmas happened and wow. You know all about that. I just wanted you out of my head."

"That's how I felt after you told me about Ben. You got any idea how bad I wanted to kiss you that night in your kitchen? It made me feel like an asshole. Who wants to kiss a girl when she's crying because her dickhead boyfriend attacked her and left her on the side of the road?"

"I don't know," she said. Her fingers twined through his. "I think it's one of those things, you know? Like strong emotion breeds strong reactions. It's like how sometimes you wanna kiss somebody when you're really mad at them."

"Like that day in your car?"

"Like that, yep. I swear to God if you'd actually kissed me that day we might both have gotten expelled for fucking in the parking lot."

"You were with Ben," he said with a shocked laugh.

"And you were with Dana. You saying the potential wasn't there?"

His mouth twisted. "Yeah. It was definitely there." A short pause. Then, "I'm glad I didn't kiss you then."

"Me too," she said, softly. "It would've been all wrong. Angry sex is fine—I guess, I've never actually had it—but not with us. Not for like our first time."

"I thought you'd had _every_ kind of sex with your sex-sensei."

She made a complex noise, sort of like a hum/snort combination. "Let me explain something to you, sweetheart: Ben and I had _fun_. A lot of fun. That's it. There wasn't any anger, ever. It was just laughs and good times. Cotton candy."

He thought that over. "I don't like carrots," he said.

She blinked at him and he waved a hand. "Pot roast usually has carrots in it. I don't like them. There's nothing wrong with cotton candy, really. It's just sugar. But pot roast, even though it's really good, has that one thing that kinda makes me go _ugh_."

"There's a part of me that makes you go _ugh_?" she said, doubtfully.

His chin tilted away and he blushed. "No. But you're not perfect, Liv. Neither am I."

"I like carrots," she said after a moment.

"Good. You can have mine."

She blew out a slow breath. Maybe it was time to change the subject. "Tell me something, Juan Carlos."

"Um. Sure…?"

"I mean," she said with a grin, "tell me something important. Something you want. Something you haven't ever told anyone before because you're afraid if you say it out loud it won't happen."

"Like a birthday wish?" he said.

"Yeah, but serious."

"Hum." His brows drew together as he thought about it. Turned over to face her and brushed a strand of hair off her face. "I really wanna meet my dad," he said at last, his voice quiet.

She remembered that day in the car. He'd said he'd never met his father and she'd made some sort of nasty remark that had prompted him to make that oh-so-fateful declaration that she got mean when people tried to get close. She swallowed.

"When did he take off?"

His hand trailed down her ribs to rest on her hip. "When my mom was pregnant. I guess he decided having a kid was too much trouble."

"If that's what he thought then maybe you don't want him in your life."

"No." He cleared his throat and tried again. "No, I know. And it's part of why I _don't_ want to meet him, because what if he's a junkie or a killer or he's in jail or some shit? Or…" His face scrunched and he trailed off.

She ran her fingers over his cheek when he dropped her eyes. "Or what, Juicy?"

He hitched a shoulder. "What if he has a family now? Like a wife and a couple kids and a house in the suburbs and a dog and—"

He broke off and bit down hard on his lip.

"How old were they?"

Juice sniffed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "My mom was eighteen and my dad was nineteen."

"That's really young, baby. He's had sixteen years to grow up and get a clue."

"Sixteen years to find me."

She kissed the corner of his jaw. "You're ten times the man at sixteen than he was at nineteen. I know that much."

He stared at her. "Why d'you say that?"

Her mouth curved. "I know things. I know you."

"Huh." Now he smiled a little, too. "Tell me three non-sexual things you know about me."

She laughed. "Oh man. Let me think." She flipped over to her back and chewed her lip. Raised an arm and held up her index finger.

"One. You used to do homework for kids back in Queens for fifty bucks each."

"Ahh…so that's not entirely accurate."

She cut him a look. "It's what you told me."

"I know. But I didn't actually _do_ the homework. I found papers and shit online and gave them those. I even found this huge database of stuff that was like college professors only and hacked into it. That's when I raised my prices from thirty to fifty."

"Wow," she said. "That still counts, though. Not my fault you didn't tell me the whole story."

"It's entirely your fault. You were…and I was…how could I possibly think about homework when all I wanted to do was lick you like an ice cream cone?"

She shivered a little. Cleared her throat and held up a second finger. "Two. You don't like crowds. Hanging out with a bunch of people, like at a party or something. You'd rather be with just a couple friends, or even by yourself."

"Or with you." He frowned. "How do you know that?"

She turned her head toward him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Don't let this go to your head, but I'm…I'm pretty much always aware of you. If you're in the room. When you leave it." She tapped the back of his hand. "You were at the art expo awards thing, weren't you?"

"Mr. Collins—Ben—invited the whole class, so I thought—"

"It's sweet, Ortiz." She twisted to face him again. "I looked for you after they gave out the awards and stuff, but I couldn't find you. I thought maybe I'd been wrong. I hadn't really seen you."

"Nah," he said, embarrassed. "I was there."

Leaning closer, still smiling, she slid her lips over his. "I really like you, Juicy."

"I like you too, Liv," he murmured before he kissed her.

Their tongues brushed. She tasted like OJ spiked with vodka, and her body was incredibly soft and warm against his. He let out a groan and hauled her closer. His leg slid between her thighs and her fingers tightened in his hair.

He broke away and grinned at her. "Stop trying to distract me, Gable. You owe me one more."

She blinked at him through fuzzy green eyes. "You're the one who—"

He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine." She trailed a fingertip down the side of his neck. Tapped a spot just above and to the left of his Adam's apple. "When I kiss you right here you make the sexiest little noise. When I _suck_ right here—"

"Whoa, hang on. _Non_-sexual."

Her face moved in a scowl, but there was no heat in it. "_Fine_," she said. "Your favorite color is red. Your favorite food is tater tots, which is weird as hell but whatever. You can quote _Easy Rider_ and _The Wild Bunch_ word for word. _The Crow_, too, but only when you're in the right mood. You hate Nirvana, but you pretend you don't. You dig Pearl Jam, but you pretend you don't."

"Eddie Vedder's a pussy," he said with a dismissive snort.

"Case in point." She kissed his nose. "You love animals, and I kinda think you're more of a cat person than a dog person. You keep your locker neater than any high school boy I've ever seen. You get personally offended if someone talks shit about Derek Jeter." Her voice dropped. "You _really_ like ice cream."

"Nothing sexual, Olivia!"

"What?" she said, wide-eyed and innocent. "I like ice cream too. I like licking it."

He scraped a hand down his face. "You're impossible."

"Part of my charm."

"Uh huh," he said, doubtfully.

She kissed that spot on his neck he liked just to hear him make the noise.

"Olivia," he said, drawing out the middle syllables of her name. "You're not makin' this easy, babe."

She pulled back with a sigh. "What do you know about your dad?"

"Huh?"

"I'm changing the subject. What do you know about your dad?"

"Oh." He made a face. "His name. That's about it."

"I don't know, Juicy. With your computer skills, I'd think armed with a name, his known location sixteen years ago, and the year he was born, you'd be able to track him down."

"I guess," he said. "Maybe." He looked away. "I guess it comes back to that whole _not sure if I want to after all_ thing."

"Ignorance is bliss?"

"Somethin' like that." He gave a restless sort of shrug. "I don't know if I want to meet him for real, but it'd at least be nice to have the option. I've never had any sort of dad-like person in my life. It might be kinda neat."

"You can borrow mine," she said. "He seems to like you, and I think he's always been disappointed he didn't have a boy." At his look her mouth quirked. "I don't mean he wishes _I_ were a boy. He just wishes I had a brother."

"Yeah," he said, stretching the syllable doubtfully. "Remember how we weren't gonna use words like that?"

She giggled. "Sorry, babe. The offer stands, though. Maybe come over sometime and watch a baseball game. Only a couple weeks till opening day."

"That'd be…that'd be cool," he said, quietly.

"It would be cool. And you know my dad's not a junkie, so there's that."

"He's probably not really a junkie."

"No. But it's hard not to think the worst."

"Uh huh."

She studied him through shrewd eyes. "Well, if you change your mind about wanting to find him, I'd be happy to play John Watson to your Sherlock Holmes."

"How did you make that sound like the plot of a porno?"

"It probably has been the plot of a porno. _Two-twenty-one B Boner Street_."

"You think that's a thing?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"I bet you a hundred bucks it's a thing. If _Edward Penis-Hands_ is a thing, surely that is."

"Oh, dude, I've seen that one. It was weird."

"I haven't had the pleasure."

"You're not missin' much." He paused. His expression turned hesitant as he studied her. "What's your thing? The thing you want?"

"It's stupid."

"I doubt that."

He waited her out while she wrestled with it. Getting real, honest information out of her could sometimes be like getting blood from a stone. And it was never smart to push her. If she felt cornered she could lash out.

"Is it your mom?" he said, finally.

She gave a quick jerk of her head. "No. I mean, if we lived in some…alterna-universe where things like that were possible, then yeah." Teeth sank into her lower lip. "We got in a fight the night before. I was so surprised when she showed up at school to pick me up like we'd planned, because I figured after that, she'd—but she didn't. She came anyway."

Her eyes flicked to his, then away. "We used to fight a lot, though. Big blowouts. We always made up really fast, and my dad said it was just how we communicated sometimes. I don't know. Doesn't seem like the best way to me.

"Anyway," she said and waved a hand, "my thing is a lot more shallow." She laughed on a shaky breath. "I want my own show. Art show, I mean. A gallery all to myself. It doesn't even have to be somewhere big like New York or LA, but just…something. A space _just_ for my stuff. People can come and see it and…ugh, it sounds so ridiculous."

"No it doesn't," he said. "It sounds awesome. If I had something like you do with your art, I'd want that too. Everybody wants people to appreciate what they do."

Her mouth quirked. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I think that'll happen for you, Liv."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Your stuff's really good. I don't know much about it, but I like it." He rolled onto his back and hooked an arm under his head. "Besides, didn't Mr. C leave to go work in a gallery in Portland? I bet he'd show it."

He didn't realize he'd made a mistake until she went stiff and still beside him. He turned his head slowly, and her face was unreadable.

"You think Ben would give me gallery space, Ortiz?" she said, her voice soft.

"Um. He always liked your sculptures, right? He was like your number one fan. That's all I meant."

"Oh. So you didn't mean I've fucked my way into a show?"

"No! Liv, come on. I'd never—I mean that didn't—come on, don't look at me like that!"

Swallowing hard, she looked away. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know you didn't. I guess I'm more sensitive about it than I would've thought."

"About you and him?"

She nodded. "I never wanted it to get out. It was a decision I made for _me_. No one else. I knew people would—they would make it something dirty. It wasn't like that. Well it _was_, sometimes, but not in the way they mean."

"I know. I get it."

"I guess if you're not prepared to deal with _all_ the possible consequences of something, you shouldn't do it."

He dismissed that with a snort. "Bullshit, Olivia. Complete bullshit. You have a right to some fucking privacy. You weren't hurting anybody and you weren't doing anything dangerous or illegal. What TJ did was wrong, and it's not somethin' you should've had to deal with at all."

"You really believe that, Ortiz?" she said, the challenge in her voice ringing loud and clear.

"Yeah, Liv. I do. You didn't deserve any of this."

She smiled, maybe a little sadly. He carded his fingers through her hair and kissed her, long and warm.

"Let's go to bed, babe. Jax and Opie about killed me today."

"You big baby," she said with a grin.

"I know it."

He clambered to his feet and pulled her up next to him. They kept their fingers laced together as they made their way back, and he felt a glow in his chest, warm and sort of achey, and a kind of drunken happiness. He was holding hands with Olivia. He was about to curl up in a sleeping bag to go to sleep with Olivia. He could kiss her anytime he wanted. He could call her up and have a chat. He could take her for tacos.

His brow furrowed. They'd never actually been on a date. That was weird to think about, but it made sense given the untraditional nature of their relationship. He cleared his throat and she shot him a questioning look.

"We got that algebra test Friday," he said.

"Yep."

"Wanna get together Thursday after school to study?"

"That'd be great," she said, smiling. "I'm on at TM until five, but after for sure."

"We could—we could grab something to eat first."

A tug on his arm stopped him. "You asking me out, Juan Carlos?"

"That depends," he said as he rubbed his free hand over his head. "You gonna say yes?"

"Hhhmm," she said. Her head tilted back and forth. "Maybe."

He let out a huff. "Always gotta keep things mysterious."

"Ask me and find out."

He leaned into her. His nose brushed hers and they both smiled. "Olivia, would you like to get something to eat with me on Thursday night and then spend the evening studying for Mrs. Hanson's sadistic test?"

"You know what, Juicy? I think I would like that."

"Fantastic. I'll pick you up at TM."

"Ew, no. I can't go on a date smelling like the shop. Pick me up at my house, six o'clock."

"Okay," he said. He ducked his head. "We can see each other between now and then, right?"

"I think so," she said. She kissed his cheek. "You should know I don't put out on the first date, though."

"Oh. Well shit." He dropped her hand and backed away. "No deal. I changed my mind."

She laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. "Shut up, Ortiz. You're such an idiot."

"Remind me why I wanna take you on a date at all," he said with a puzzled expression.

"Because you think I'm cute and have a great rack."

"Right," he said with a slow nod. "I knew it was something like that."

He caught her as she fell against him, and they were both laughing. When their eyes met her breath hitched and she felt her face go hot. Her whole _body_ went hot, but that was nothing new with him. What _was_ new was that weird little skip her heart made and the funny little flip her tummy did.

"What?" he said. He sounded kind of breathless, too. "What's that face?"

"No face," she said. "Just, you know. My face."

"I like your face," he murmured.

"I like yours too." Her gaze drifted down to his mouth. "Kiss me now, Juicy."

He sighed. "It's a tough job bein' your boy toy, but somehow I muddle through."

Her giggle morphed into a pleased gasp as their lips met. The stood pressed together in the moonlight, her arms around his neck and his hands on her waist, and for a few moments Olivia forgot to be afraid. She kissed the cute boy who liked her, who she liked back, and for just a little while everything seemed…perfect.

* * *

_Sorry for the posting delay. I have up through ch24 written, but I've taken a little break from this one. Not a long break, or a permanent one, but honestly things aren't quite shaping up the way I want, so I needed to take a step back to give it time to stew._

_Like I said on ch22, I've started a fic over on ao3 called Under My Skin that's sort of a sequel to _Come With Me Tonight_. That's what I've been working on bc it's really just crack and it's easy to write._

_Anyway. :) I really do like this story and I'm not giving up on it by ANY means, but updates will be a bit slower than every day. I think I was writing it too fast, tbh. If you guys wanna drop me a review or two I'd love it. :)_


	24. Let Go

I actually meant to publish this yesterday, but real life got in the way. Oops. :)

* * *

**let go of your fear**  
** let's grow old together**  
**find a place along the way**  
**let's reel through the years**  
**each makes the other better**  
**but what thoughts can i call allies**  
**when this circle of ribs keeps working on its own?**  
Better Than Ezra, "WWOZ"

When Olivia got out of Tara's car Sunday evening she saw that her dad was home. The mill was closed on Sundays, so she wasn't surprised, but sometimes he got together with some of the guys for a poker game. Not tonight, apparently.

She said her goodbyes to Donna and Tara, grabbed her bag, and jogged up the path. "Dad?" she called when she got inside. "I'm home!"

His voice floated from the kitchen. "Hey, pumpkin. You want chili?"

"From a can or the real stuff?" she said, leaning against the kitchen doorjamb.

He looked insulted. "The real stuff, Olivia. Come on."

Grinning, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Of course I do. No beans?"

"Nary a bean."

"Excellent. Do I have time for a shower?"

"Yep. It'll be a little bit."

"Great," she said. "I'll be right back."

"Oh, pumpkin."

She turned back with a questioning look and he nodded toward the shelf where they kept the mail. "You got a letter the other day. Friday, I guess."

"A letter?" She dug through the stack until she found it, a plain white envelope, thick and heavy with its contents. It had a Charming postmark but no return address. Strange.

"Kind of felt like photos to me."

She glanced up, but he was too busy puttering at the stove to pay her any attention. She ripped the envelope open and caught the pictures—he'd been right about that—before they fell. Her eyes widened as she flipped through them.

"Ollie?"

"Oh," she said, pasting on a smile. "From the, uh…from Opie's birthday party. Don't know why Tara mailed them rather than just giving them to me this weekend."

Before he could ask to see them she pivoted on her heel and hurried down the hall. Once her bedroom door was safely closed and locked behind her she fell on the bed and stared down at the stack of photos in her hand.

Some of them were from Opie's party; that hadn't been a lie. Others were clearly taken in the school parking lot. A couple at TM. A few on her goddamn front porch.

The one thing they all had in common: no matter where they were taken, or from how far away, each and every photograph pictured Olivia with Juice. She bit her lip. Okay. The thing with Ben had been bad enough, but this was fucking weird. The ones of the two of them in her car looked like they'd been taken the day they had that huge fight. It had to be, because that was the last time they'd been in the Cougar together.

She shoved a few of them into her desk drawer and picked up the phone. Juice's mom answered after a couple of rings.

"Hi, Ms. Ortiz," she said, "this is Olivia. May I speak to Juice please?"

"Olivia, please, call me _Ana_. Juan Carlos is in the shower. Can I take a message?"

"Um…do you think it'd be possible for him to come over for a few minutes tonight? Apparently Jax grabbed a sweatshirt of Juice's by mistake, and he gave it to Tara to give to me…anyway. I have it here and I thought he might want it back."

There was a brief pause. "It can't wait until school tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah, of course, but—"

She laughed, cutting Olivia off. "Young love. I understand. I'll send him your way as soon as he's out."

"It's not—erm. Thanks, Ms. Ortiz—Ana. I'll make sure he brings you some of my dad's chili."

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Olivia slumped in the desk chair. Maybe she shouldn't tell him about this. She could just keep it to herself, and…

And what? Deal with TJ on her own when he decided to do more than take pictures? That would be stupid. If they were just photos of her, fine. But Juice was in them too and he had a right to know.

Rolling her eyes, she shoved the pictures back into the envelope and hurried to the bathroom for her shower. She'd need to be quick, because she had a lot more hair to wash than Juice did.

* * *

She could hear Juice and her dad talking when she dashed from the bathroom to her bedroom.

"Olivia, you've got company!" James called.

"I know, Daddy. Give me a minute!"

She shut the door too fast to hear his reply. She threw on jeans and a t-shirt and slicked her wet hair back in a braid. A touch of mascara, a little lipgloss, the envelope in her back pocket, and she was on her way to the kitchen.

"Those home runs _were_ sweet, but I think the better team still won," she heard Juice say.

"The better _paid_ team," her dad scoffed.

Oh God. They were talking '96 World Series; she could tell by her dad's tone. The home runs had to be Andruw Jones' back-to-back in his first two at-bats in game one. He talked about those home runs constantly, and she had to admit it'd been pretty cool. She wasn't as much a fan as her dad, but she had a soft spot for Andruw Jones and his dimples.

"You guys playin' nice?" Olivia said as she came around the corner.

"Of course we are, sweetheart," James said. "Juice and I were having a very civil debate about—"

"The ninety-six World Series. Yeah, I figured."

"Hey, Liv," Juice said. His grin was contagious, and she found herself returning it without even thinking. "My mom said Jax got my sweatshirt by mistake?"

"Ahh…yeah, that wasn't quite true. I just didn't want to worry her."

"You lied to Ms. Ortiz?" James said with a frown.

She tugged the envelope out of her pocket. "You'll understand why in a sec." Dropping into one of the empty chairs, she slid the packet across the table. "Open it," she said to Juice.

His brow creased in confusion, but he did as she said. "Holy shit," he breathed after a moment. He looked up with a grimace. "Sorry, Mr. Gable."

He had been looking over Juice's shoulder, and now he waved the apology away. "I gotta second your _holy shit_ and raise you a _what the fuck_? Ollie, what are these?"

"I don't know, Daddy. I mean—obviously they're pictures of Juice and me—but I don't know who took them. They go back over a month."

"Kind of remind me of that picture of you and Mr. C," Juice said. "The one that was on the flyer."

"That's what I was thinking," Olivia said. "We don't have actual proof that TJ was behind the flyer, but I don't think there's much doubt in anyone's mind. So…does he have someone following me around? Because up until last week he had lacrosse practice after school. I doubt he has time to take pictures of me every five minutes."

James cleared his throat. "Ollie, honey, we need to take these to the police. I'm not sure what the sender is trying to say by mailing these to you, but I doubt it's anything good."

"What're the cops gonna do, Dad? He hasn't threatened me."

"He attacked you at school, Liv, and the night—" Juice cut himself off, but it was too late.

"The night you broke up with him," James finished. "When you kneed him in the balls. Right, Olivia?"

"That's right," she said.

"Exactly how violent did he get? And what form did that violence take?" His tone was careful and measured, his voice tight.

Juice cast her a sheepish glance as she struggled with it. She flicked her brows at him and met her father's concerned blue gaze. "He got grabby. Shoved his hand up my skirt and bit my lip. I scratched his face, and he sort of tried to slap me, and then when he dove at me again he landed on my knee, crotch-first. I jumped out of the car and he drove away. A while later I was walking down the side of the road when Juice happened by. He recognized me and stopped to give me a ride home."

There was a long, loaded silence.

"You're telling me TJ Flanary tried to rape you."

She swallowed hard and glanced away. "Basically, yeah."

"Um," Juice said. "I should probably—" He started to push himself up from the table, but Olivia touched his arm.

"Don't," she said. "Please."

James' eyes darted between his daughter and her not-a-boyfriend-just-a-friend. "Maybe just give us a minute, Juice," he said.

"You can hang out in my room," she said. "It's the last door on the right."

"Sure." He brushed his fingers against the back of her hand and offered a quick smile.

As soon as he heard her bedroom door shut, James turned to Olivia with a stern expression. "You should have told me about this."

"Why?" she said, wearily. "So you could freak out just like you're doing now? Believe me, if it had gone any further than him just grabbing my butt, I would have. I'd've gone to the cops, too. But, Dad, what could they've done with this? It would've been my word against TJ's, and we all know who has more pull in this town."

He rubbed his forehead, and when he spoke again his voice was thick. "I just hate that you had to deal with something like that alone."

She reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I didn't, Daddy," she said. "I had Juice."

"I'm your _father_, Olivia. I'm supposed to be the one who—"

"You can't protect me from everything. I'm fine. I promise. And if TJ ever lays a finger on me again, you'll be the first to know. Okay?"

Clearly he didn't like it, but after a moment he let out a hard sigh and nodded. "All right," he said. "I'm concerned about these pictures, Ollie. You can't just blow it off like it's nothing."

"I could mention it to someone in the club," she said. "They could keep an eye out around TM. I'm sure they would be less than thrilled to know someone's taking pictures of their employees."

"That's an idea. What would they do if they found him?"

She spread her hands in a shrug. "Break his camera at the least. His face if he acts like a dip…er, a jerk. Either way he wouldn't be a problem anymore."

"Unless it's TJ himself."

"Doubtful. Like I said, up until last week he had practice after school. And this group;" she tapped the ones of them in her car; "was taken during school. That last day that I skipped a while back."

"Ah, the infamous fight." He squinted. "Looks like a real humdinger."

"Uh huh," she said and gathered them up.

"Didn't realize you two spent so much time together."

"We don't, really. Obviously we work together, and we have the same group of friends, but it's not like we're together all the time or anything. They just really picked and chose their moments."

He frowned down at the photo in his hand. It was perfectly innocent: the two of them leaning against the side of his old blue pickup. They were laughing about something, not even touching, but it was her face that especially caught his attention. "You look really happy, honey," he said after a long, thoughtful moment.

He couldn't recall her looking quite that purely, completely, _freely_ happy since before the accident.

She paused. Went still and quiet. She took the picture from him and her mouth quirked. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I guess I was."

There was a short silence as he watched her across the table. Finally she cleared her throat and sat up straighter. "I should go get Juice. I think scented candles are like teenage boy kryptonite or something."

"I'm sure the Christina Aguilera in your music collection isn't helping either."

"Shh! You promised you wouldn't tell anybody."

"Sorry, pumpkin. I don't think he heard me." He smiled and kissed her hand. "Invite him to stay for dinner if you want."

"Sure, Dad," she said as she wandered toward the hall. "Nothing like a little chili to go with your stalking."

"Not funny, Olivia!" he called after her.

She ignored him and pushed open her bedroom door. Juice was in the desk chair, and he looked extremely nervous. Out of place and maybe as awkward as she'd ever seen him. His hands were clasped in his lap, and when he saw her his face relaxed into a quick smile and he jumped to his feet.

"Hey," he said. "Everything okay?"

She eased the door partway shut and stepped closer. He met her halfway and their arms went around each other. He ran a hand over her damp braid and she clutched the back of his t-shirt.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured into his chest. "I'm so sorry, Juicy."

"Babe, no—for what? You didn't do anything. This is TJ. You've got nothin' to apologize for."

She pulled away and shook her head. "I didn't show my dad all of them."

A quick search in the drawer and she grabbed the handful she'd left behind. Some showed them kissing—in the park the night of Opie's birthday, on her porch, in the school parking lot when they thought they'd been alone—but a few of them were obviously from Thursday. The two of them holding hands as they walked from the building to her dad's truck.

"Whoever took these has been taking them for a while, but TJ didn't feel the need to send them to me until after we went public," she said.

His voice was low and intense when he spoke again. "I'm gonna kill that shit, Olivia. I'm gonna—"

"You're not going to do anything. I'm going to tell the club that someone's taking pictures of us at TM. They'll take care of it."

"You gotta let me do something, Liv. I can't just stand by while some asshole—" He broke off and the muscles in his jaw danced as he clenched his teeth. "It's my job to protect you."

"Funny," she said with a tired smile, "that's what my dad said, too."

He scowled. "I guess—I mean, I guess that's true, but I'm your—you're my—" He broke off, his glower deepening, and she reached up to touch his cheek.

"Just say it, Ortiz."

"You're my girlfriend, Olivia. I know you're gonna say you're not, but you _are_. That's how I feel about you, and I think that's how you feel about me. What do the words matter anyway?"

"I wasn't gonna say that, Juicy."

He stared at her, wide-eyed. "You weren't?"

"Nope. This weekend—" She broke off and bit her lip thoughtfully. "I don't know. This weekend was really sort of…special. That sounds lame, but…I don't know how else to say it. It meant a lot to me."

He ducked his head to hide a grin. "Yeah," he said to his boots, "it meant a lot to me too."

"Good," she said. "So does that mean I can be your girlfriend?"

"Duh, Liv, I just said—"

"Yeah, and maybe I wanna hear it again," she said with half a smile.

"Oh." He took her hand and let out a gusty sigh. "Olivia Gable, would you be my girlfriend and maybe if you feel like it go to prom with me next month?"

"Prom?"

"If you feel like it. I mean, you skipped winter formal, right?"

She laughed. "Yeah, Juicy. I'll be your girlfriend, and I'll definitely…_think_ about prom."

He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "You just made me the happiest guy in the world."

"Oh shut up, Ortiz."

A grin lit up his face. "Make me, Gable."

"Baby, I would, but my dad's just down the hall." Her head tilted. "I'm sure I can think of something, though," she said as her mouth closed over his. She pulled away, giggling a little. "Ugh. God, we're such dorks."

"Hey, speak for yourself!"

"No way. I was never this much of a dork until I met you."

He made a face. "Thanks, Liv."

Her mouth curved. "You're welcome, sugar."

Capturing her face in his hands, he kissed her soft and slow. She let out a quiet sigh and trailed her mouth along his jaw. Down the side of his neck.

"Liv," he whispered, "the door…your dad…"

"Olivia!" James called, as if summoned by Juice's words.

Juice jumped away from her like he'd been burned and scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. She made a quick check of her lipgloss, freshened it, and strolled out to the hall.

"What's up, Daddy?"

"How long does it take to invite someone to dinner? It's ready."

"Come on," she said to Juice. "It's chili. If you wanna stay."

"Sounds great. I love chili." He squeezed her palm as he went past her, and she smiled at him.

Chili. Spaghetti. Tacos. What _didn't_ he love? She rolled her eyes and followed him down the hall.

Once in the kitchen, James handed her a stack of bowls and some spoons. "You staying, Juice?" he said.

"Yes, sir. Thanks for inviting me."

"No problem," he said. He paused and his eyes narrowed a little. "Might be a good idea to wipe my daughter's lipstick off your neck first, though."

Juice turned so red he was almost purple, and he rubbed at his neck with the desperation of a man swatting a deadly spider.

James cast Olivia an amused glance. "Still not your boyfriend, pumpkin?"

She hitched a shoulder. "I don't know, Dad," she said. "I might keep this one a minute before I throw him back."

* * *

The next day after school Olivia waved Jax down as he headed for his bike. He paused, helmet in hand, and waited for her to fall in beside him.

"You headed to TM?" she said.

"Nah. Ope's on today. I was gonna head to Tara's."

"Great. Me too. Can I bum a ride?"

"Where's the great blue beast?"

"My dad doesn't really want me driving anywhere on my own these days." She ran a hand through her hair and strapped on the helmet he handed her. "I'll explain when we get to Tara's, if that's okay."

He gave her a curious look, but after a moment he hitched a shoulder. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Hop on."

She mounted up behind him and rested her hands on his waist. She liked that Jax was a man of few words sometimes. It made life easier. She slid her sunglasses on and looked around. The parking lot was nearly empty. Jax had had detention, and she'd stayed late in the shop—an excuse to wait for him, really. School had been out for hours.

Was someone watching her now? Snapping pictures? Would _Juice_ get a packet of photos with her on Jax' bike? Or maybe Tara would.

Olivia shivered and Jax cast a look over his shoulder. "You cold?" he said.

"No. Let's just get outta here."

"Readin' my mind, Gable."

Olivia felt a thrill in her belly as he gunned the bike and it took off beneath them. Motorcycles weren't exactly comfortable since the accident, but she loved them all the same. The wind in her hair. The sun on her skin. The roar of the engine and the smell of the road. She downplayed it because she knew her dad would flip if he knew how she really felt, but part of her thought maybe she was destined to be an old lady after all.

Except she wanted out of Charming, and she couldn't imagine spending time with any MC other than SAMCRO.

The ride was brief, and he never got up much speed because it was all neighborhood roads. All too soon they pulled up in front of Tara's house and he cut the engine. She hopped off and handed him back the helmet.

Maybe Juice would be up for a ride out to the pines sometime this week.

When Tara opened the door, her greeting died on her lips and she glanced back and forth between them with a puzzled expression. "You guys aren't here to tell me you've been carrying on an illicit affair behind my back and now you're running away together, are you?"

Olivia and Jax shared identical looks of horror at the idea.

"No, babe," he said. "Ollie's got somethin' on her mind, I guess, but it ain't that."

"Ohh," Tara said as she gestured for them to come in. "So I guess it's time for Ollie and me to tell _you_ about _our_ illicit affair," she said with a grin.

"It's cruel to keep him in the dark, Tara," Olivia said.

Jax didn't react quite like they thought he would. No joke. No wolf whistle. Instead he looked decidedly uneasy. Olivia and Tara exchanged glances.

"Jax, we're totally kidding," Olivia said.

"I know," he said, scowling.

"Okay then…?"

He gave a restless shrug. "Look, Ollie, I know you're into girls, and that's fine. I got no problem with it. I just…I didn't know you were into _my_ girl."

Tara looked at Olivia and she stared back. They couldn't decide if they should be amused or offended, though for different reasons.

"I'm not into your girl, Jax," Olivia said at last.

"And even if she were," Tara said, "it wouldn't matter because I'm with _you_."

"And I'm with Juice, so…I'm a little confused about the problem here."

He made a frustrated gesture. "Why didn't you guys tell me you made out?"

"Because it wasn't a big deal," Tara said.

"It was a lark," said Olivia. "We were drunk and bored. You guys were broken up."

He scraped a hand down his face. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he hadn't stopped thinking about it since Friday. Good thoughts, some. But he had this weird niggle of doubt that just wouldn't go away.

"Who kissed who?" he demanded.

The girls looked at each other again. Finally Tara said, "I asked her to kiss me. I wanted to know what all the fuss was about."

"Jax…Tara's straight, okay? And she's in love with you. _And_ I have a boyfriend."

"Oh he's your boyfriend now?" Tara said with a grin. "Since when?"

"Since last night, smug face."

Her eyes widened. "Last night? Did you—?" She cut herself off and darted a glance at Jax.

"No." She paused. "Jealous fit over, Jackson? Can we move on?"

He frowned. "Yeah," he said, a little grudgingly. Really, really ridiculous. Ollie was his friend. Tara was his girl. He was acting like a dumbass. "Sorry, Ollie."

"Might be smarter to apologize to your girl," Olivia said.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he said to Tara.

"Sure you didn't. You just accused Ollie of trying to steal your girlfriend and me of letting her. No problem, though."

He cast Olivia a desperate glance, but she held up her hands. "Sorry, kid. You made this mess. You gotta clean it up."

"Didn't you have something you wanted to talk about?" he said.

She shook her head and reached into her jacket. "Friday I got a little surprise in the mail."

"Babies don't come in the mail, Ollie. Look further south," Tara said.

"Bitch," Olivia replied without heat.

"What the fuck am I lookin' at?" Jax said as he flipped through the photos.

"That's kinda obvious, honey," Tara said. "The question is why?"

"Don't know," Olivia said. "I guess the same reason that motivated him to have someone take pictures of Ben and me."

"These are at TM," Jax said.

"Yup. That's why I'm bringing them to your attention. I can't imagine Clay would be thrilled with someone taking photos of his business."

Jax grunted. "Watchin' the club come and go. This is fucked up."

"Pretty sure the club's not the target," said Tara.

"They will be when Jax tells Clay about it."

He looked up at her with a frown. She shrugged. "I don't really want SAMCRO knowing my business, Jax. I just want this asshole to stop. I'd rather Clay think someone's taking pictures of the club rather than me. Does that work for you?"

He cleared his throat and handed her back the photos that hadn't been snapped at the garage. "Yeah, Ollie, I got you. You think TJ took 'em?"

"No," Tara said. "He had lacrosse practice after school up until the suspension. Probably hired somebody."

"He jealous of Juice?"

"I guess," Olivia said. "Boy can't stand to lose."

"We told you he was an asshole," Jax said.

Tara nudged him. "Not really the time, Jackson."

Olivia waved a hand. "Doesn't matter. You were right. Kinda wish I'd known _how_ right, but…"

"You're a stubborn bitch," Tara said.

"Pretty much."

"You work tomorrow?" Jax said.

"Yup. Till close."

"Great. I'll show these to Clay tonight, and the club can be on the lookout tomorrow. Thanks for bringin' me this."

"My dad had a fit. I think he mighta pulled me out for home school or some shit if I hadn't given him something."

"You tell him what happened the night you broke up with TJ?" Tara said.

"Yep."

"The full version, or the bullshit you've fed me?"

She swallowed and looked away. "The full version."

"What full version?" Jax said.

"Don't know, babe," Tara said to him. "She won't tell me."

"It's not—" Olivia rubbed her forehead and let out a sigh. "TJ stuck his hand up my skirt and I scratched his face. He lunged at me and I kneed him in the balls. That's it. That's the story."

"Up your _skirt_?" Tara cried. "Olivia, that's—"

"I know what it is, Tara. Believe me. But, look, it's…nothing happened."

"Until he grabbed you by the neck and threw you into a locker," Jax said. "Juice shoulda hit that motherfucker a lot harder."

"I appreciate everyone being so quick to defend me, but I'm fine. Just get the photographer off my ass, Jax, and I'll be happy. Okay?"

He glanced at Tara. She flicked her brows. He glowered. She tilted her head in a shrug.

Finally, "Yeah, Ollie. Like I said, I'll show 'em to Clay."

"Great. That's all I ask." Her mouth moved in a sort-of smile. "I hate to ask this, but can I get a ride home? My dad won't be happy until I deliver the shutterbug's head on a platter."

"You're not even my girlfriend and you're the most high maintenance woman on the goddamn planet," Jax said.

"Come on, Ollie," Tara said with a brief glare in his direction. "We'll take the Cutlass." She wove her arm through Olivia's. "I need to hear all about last night anyway."

"What'm I supposed to do while you're gone?" said Jax.

She shot a grin over her shoulder. "Wait, baby. You're gonna have to wait."

* * *

_Jax'll get over it. I've no intention of making him into a jealous pissbaby._

_Okay, sooo, this is the last chapter I have written of this right now. I'm close to being done with the _Come With Me Tonight _crack sequel, so I'll be writing on this one again soon. I have pretty much the entire rest of this plotted out; I just need to write it._

_I loved hearing from so many of you after the last update. Keep 'em comin', because it helps me remember that there are ppl out there actually looking forward to an update. :D_


	25. Breathless

Hi, guys! I'm back. Did you miss me? :D

* * *

**i thought you' d want to know**  
**that when you feel the world is crashing**  
**all around your feet**  
**come running headlong into my arms**  
**breathless**  
**i will never judge you**  
**i can only love you**  
**come now running headlong**  
**into my arms**  
**breathless**  
Better Than Ezra, "Breathless"

It was quiet at school the next day. She and Juice managed to sneak a little time in the break room during free period, but since the pictures surfaced she was more reluctant than ever to have any public displays of affection between them. He understood, and he didn't try to pressure her about it. If he were being completely honest, the whole thing kinda freaked him out too.

He liked Olivia—_really_ liked her—and he was incredibly happy she'd finally decided to actually for real be his girlfriend…but…and fuck he hated himself for the _but_, but he couldn't shake it. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted a girl before, and not just in a sex way. And he'd known from really early on (thanks to Jax and Opie's warning) that wanting her came with some issues attached.

But this TJ thing. It wasn't like it made him want her _less_. It wasn't that. It just made him…frustrated. With her, a little, because she wouldn't confront TJ and she wouldn't let Juice kick his worthless ass, but mostly of course with TJ himself. How dare that little prick do any of this shit? Treat Olivia like that and touch her like that and spread those stupid fucking rumors, then stalk her (apparently) and make her private life public…

He didn't quite know how to deal with all of it. He didn't know how to help her. And that was really what he wanted. He wanted her to know how much he wanted her (without being gross about it), and that he was there whatever she needed. It was weird, because he'd never felt quite like that about a girl before. He hadn't ever really had any girl friends before. Friends who were girls, that is. And now he was friends with three of them, and one of them was his girlfriend, and he was a little out of his depth.

They had a date Thursday. Like, an actual date. They hadn't done that before. He thought maybe she thought it wasn't a big deal, but he wanted to make it one. Before, when she'd said she didn't want to be his girlfriend or have anything other than friends with benefits, he'd imagined what it would be like if they went on a date, and it was always disastrous. Mostly because it was easier to imagine a really awful date than a really good one.

Now that she'd actually said yes he really wanted to make it nice. He didn't have a lot of money, and he had a feeling she didn't need a bunch of expensive bullshit (she mentioned, sometimes, how TJ used to give her presents all the time and it sorta freaked her out), so he figured it had to be more _personal_ special. Like something just for her.

But he had no idea what. Maybe she'd like…what? Fuck. Why was this so hard? He knew her pretty well, and he knew she wasn't one of those girls who wanted, like, roses and shit. She didn't even like roses. She'd probably laugh at him if he brought her flowers, even tulips, her favorite. She didn't seem like the type of girl who wanted flowers.

He still had two days to think about it. It was only Tuesday, and they weren't going out until Thursday. In the meantime he'd take whatever time they could carve out away from prying eyes and be happy about it.

Olivia had a shift at TM that afternoon, but he was off, so he headed home after school. His mom's car was in the parking lot. He frowned. She should be at work now. She'd gone back week before last and so far things had been good. She'd been feeling okay. But she started chemo next week and he was worried about it. The doctor had explained the side effects and he wondered how she'd be able to work with all that going on.

And her hair. She was really gonna hate losing her hair.

He parked his bike and hurried upstairs. Let himself in and started calling for her immediately.

"Mom? You around? How come you're home so early?"

"Back here, _mijo_. Just a minute. I'll come to you."

Her voice came from her room. His mom was one of the hardest working people on earth, and if she were in her bedroom at four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon then she was either cleaning it, or she really did feel like shit and couldn't get out of bed. It was easy to figure out which.

"Nah, it's good," he said. "Gimme a sec and I'll come to you."

There was silence. Then, "_Sí_, Juan Carlos."

Shit. Not cleaning, then. He grabbed a granola bar and poured a glass of milk before he headed that way. "Mom?" he said, knocking on the door.

"Come in," she said after a moment.

She didn't look sick, he thought when he saw her, so much as…upset. Maybe she'd even been crying, which seemed impossible. He frowned. Shifted his weight.

"Come here, _mijo_," she said. "Sit down."

He perched gingerly on the edge of her bed and set his milk on the nightstand. Ripped the granola bar open and took a bite. He knew she'd bug him about it if he waited to eat, so better to just get on with it and let her tell him whatever was on her mind.

"How was school today?"

He raised a brow. "Fine, Mom. You know. School. How are _you_?"

She waved it away. "And how are things with Olivia? We should have her over for dinner sometime. You've eaten at her house several times now. It's our turn. Plus I'd like to talk to her some. Her father gushes about her, of course, but that's his job."

"What're you sayin'?"

She shrugged and smiled. "I need to make sure she's good enough for you, _mijo_."

He almost choked on his granola. He took a swig of milk and stared into the glass as he thought about it. "She's great, Mom. I think whatever nice things her dad said are probably true."

"Hhhmm," Ana said. "Well. He did say she was pretty, and that's true."

Juice blushed. "Yeah, she is. I mean, duh of course she is. But she's…she's smart, you know? And funny, and like a really good artist. She's just…cool, I guess." He couldn't stop himself from smiling when he thought about her, and he knew he probably sounded (and looked) like a complete idiot.

He glanced up and shrugged a little. "What?" he said. "What's that face?"

"Nothing," she said with a smile. "I've just never heard you talk about a girl like this before."

"She's…kinda special," he admitted, blushing harder.

"I can tell, Juan Carlos." She pushed herself up a little higher in the bed, and Juice set his food aside to help her. He got the pillows fixed so that she was propped up, and then settled next to her again.

"So what's up?" he said. "How come you're here in the middle of the afternoon? Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel fine, _mijo_. There is something I need to talk to you about, though." She reached out and clasped his hand. Hers was tiny, but strong, and she held on hard. His grip was lighter; he didn't want to hurt her; and he felt a pinch of fear as he watched her.

She drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. Her dark eyes, so much like his, searched his face. Finally she said, "I lost my job today, Juan Carlos."

He sat up fast. "What? Why? What happened?"

"Apparently my time away from work has caused a problem. They've been very generous about it, but I've only worked there a few months. Now with everything going on…well. It's understandable, I suppose."

"_Understandable_? Mom, you work your butt off at that place! Yeah, you've been sick, but come on. You can't fire somebody for being sick!"

"You can fire someone for missing work."

She was so accepting. Why wasn't she mad? He was pissed as hell. "Mom—"

"I don't want you to worry about it. Everything is going to work out fine. I can get COBRA to cover the health insurance until I find something new, and with the money you make at the garage and what I've saved up, we'll be okay."

His mouth fell open and he ran his free hand over his head. Was this because of him? Because he'd punched TJ Flanary? Olivia had warned him something like this could happen, but he hadn't completely believed her.

Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just shit timing.

"I can pick up some more hours at the garage," he mumbled.

"No. You need to concentrate on school. Between Olivia and your job you hardly have time for homework. I don't want your grades slipping."

"Mom, come on."

"Don't _Mom_ me. I'm serious. This suspension is already going to hurt your GPA, so you need to work extra hard." She softened and touched his face. "I love you, Juan Carlos. We're going to be fine. I promise you that."

But she couldn't really make promises like that, could she?

"Yeah, Mom. I know. I love you too."

"Try not to worry," she said. "I'm sure I'll find something soon."

"Of course you will," he said, trying to smile. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Is Ms. Gardner down the hall still going with you next week?"

"Yes. She's being very generous. Don't worry about that either, _mijo_. You have to be at school. It's important."

"I know. I just wish I could go with you the first time."

"It's just sitting there. Nothing exciting. I'll be fine. Mrs. Gardner is going to teach me to knit!"

Juice smiled a little. "That sounds cool."

"I'll make you a scarf," she said.

"For California?"

She lifted her hands in a shrug. "It could get cold."

"You make me a scarf I'll wear it even if it's not."

"Such a good boy." She squeezed his hand. "Go do your homework, Juan Carlos. I'll start dinner in a bit."

"Don't worry about it. I can have a sandwich or something."

"Don't treat me like an invalid," she said with a scowl. "I can still cook dinner!"

"Mom, I wasn't—" He ducked his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're right. You cook like a champ."

"Damn straight," she said.

He pushed himself to his feet and leaned down to drop a kiss on her cheek. "Take your time. I'm not super hungry." Grabbing his empty glass and the granola bar wrapper, he headed for the kitchen. He washed the glass out and set it in the sink, then stood gripping the counter for a long time.

Who would fire someone with cancer? What a fucking asshole. Who would _hire_ somebody with cancer?

Maybe he could ask Olivia. She knew the town way better than he did, and she might have some ideas of where his mom could apply. But she'd flip her lid when she thought TJ might've gotten her fired…but he knew he'd have to tell her eventually. It was too big, and she'd be mad if he kept it from her.

Not mad, exactly, but kinda have her feelings hurt. Because he hadn't told her about his mom's cancer, and after that he'd told her he'd come to her with stuff. And she was a really private person and would understand that he wanted to keep things to himself, but this sort of involved her too. If TJ was the reason his mom was fired.

And besides that he wanted to tell her. He wanted to hear her take on it. He wanted…to talk to her. About anything. He loved the sound of her voice and the way she put things and how she made really complicated shit seem kinda…simple.

He frowned. Wow. He was really in deep.

When the fuck had that happened?

* * *

All seemed normal at TM that afternoon. Olivia had wondered if someone might want to talk to her, but no one paid her any more attention than usual. Jax had told her he'd given Clay the photos last night, but maybe Clay had decided not to do anything about it. She doubted that. She thought they were probably just downplaying it.

It was fairly busy, but Ope was on, and the two of them worked well together. Chibs was the third, and it was his turn to pick the radio station. He always chose shit he knew Olivia hated just to piss her off, but today she ignored him. She was in a strangely good mood, despite the bullshit with the pictures, and she wasn't letting Chibs' awful taste in music bring her down.

They were slow for the last hour, so Opie and Olivia drew straws and he got to cut out early. She and Chibs were left to close up, and when she tried to tell Chibs she could handle it on her own, he refused. She shrugged and went back to organizing her tool chest.

Some truly awful song came on the radio, and she leaned around the chest to glare at him. He grinned at her and cranked it up. She flipped him off and he burst out laughing.

"Very ladylike, Ollie girl," he shouted over the music.

She rolled her eyes, stomped across the garage, and spun the dial the other way. "Are you thirty or _three_? Jesus, Chibs."

"Ach, lass, was just havin' a bit of fun."

She frowned. "Yeah…I know. I just…not really in the mood."

His mouth twisted in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Somethin' on your mind?" he said, lifting a brow.

She looked up at him—a long way up—and studied his face a moment. "Why would something be on my mind?"

_I actually feel better than I have in days_, she wanted to say. But she didn't, and she wasn't quite sure why. Because it was true, wasn't it? TJ was still suspended. Things were great between her and Juice. Her dad was more or less cool, and he liked Juice. Jax had gotten over his weird bout of jealousy.

So, yeah. She felt better than she had in days.

"I'm fine," she said. "Getting a headache, I think. Sorry I was a jerk."

He hitched a shoulder and lit a cigarette. Offered it to her and grinned at the look on her face. "Not a smoker, lass?"

"You offerin' tobacco products to minors now? Smart."

He chuckled. "I've committed worse sins."

"Yeah," she said, "I bet you have."

She meant it jokingly, no big deal, but it came out somewhat…different. Their eyes met, and his were dark and intense. Heat rose on her cheeks. And not entirely due to embarrassment.

"Um." She cleared her throat. "I—I didn't really mean—"

He waved it away with the hand holding the cigarette. "I know what you meant, darlin'." He paused and took a drag. Then, "Saw some interestin' pictures today."

"Ahh." She turned away, back to the tool chest, but he followed her and draped an arm over it. "What?" she said.

"What? Thought we were havin' a conversation, then you just walk away. So I thought, no way someone as polite as Ollie leaves mid-conversation. She must mean for me to follow her. So here I am. Followin' you."

"You're such a pain in the ass."

"Aye. But like recognizes like, or so they say." He tossed the butt away and ground it out. She eyed him until, with a sheepish smile, he picked it up and set it on the counter so he could get rid of it later. "Case in point," he muttered.

"Right. I don't like nasty ass cigarette butts all over the garage floor, but I'm being the pain in the ass. One day I'm gonna walk around and stick gum under every workbench in here and see how you feel about it."

He grinned and wagged his brows. "Condoms might be better. More effective."

"Ew! Chibs, please. You wanna strew condoms around, be my guest. But I quit."

"No need for that. I'll keep 'em to myself."

"Good plan." She said it in a sort of final way, clearly ending the conversation, and went back to what she'd been doing before his musical shenanigans. She thought he would, too, but instead he leaned against the workbench and crossed his arms over his chest, his long legs at the ankle, and watched her.

She tried to ignore him, but Chibs had always been pretty impossible to ignore. Finally, with a frustrated breath, she dropped a wrench into the drawer and glared at him. "What, Chibs? What do you want?"

He gave a slow, lazy shrug. "Nothin', lass. I just like lookin' at you."

Her brow furrowed even as she blushed, hot and bright. "That's not really—"

"Aye, I know it. You're naught but a kid, and you're with Juicy boy. Didn't say I was gonna do anything about it. I just like lookin' at you."

"I don't really like being looked at." She glanced back toward the closed bay doors. "Or watched."

"Shouldn't be a problem too much longer. The bein' watched part, I mean. Tig and Clay were gonna take care of that problem tonight."

"If he's even here."

"I imagine he is. He put a lot of effort into those first shots. And I imagine you didn't give us all of 'em, did you?"

"Someone's taking pictures of TM, Chibs. Why would there be more than that?"

"TM, aye. When you're here. And sendin' 'em to you. So…" He trailed off and lifted a hand.

She toyed with the end of her braid and straightened the wrench she'd thrown down. Finally she met his gaze. "If Tig and Clay are taking care of it, then it's no big deal."

"True," he said, nodding. "Nothin' for you to worry about. I'm sure lovely lasses like you get your picture taken all the time."

"That's gross, Filip."

"What?" He gave a big-eyed, innocent blink. "_You_ said it's no big deal. I was just agreein' with you."

"You think you're so fucking clever." She stepped closer and angled her chin up toward him. "Someone's taking pictures of me. It's creepy. But I'm sure once Clay and Tig get through with him it'll be done. I _won't_ have anything to worry about. Wouldn't you agree?"

He made a low noise of disapproval. "You aren't curious at all who's doin' it?"

"I know who's doing it." She flicked her fingers. "Not the actual person, but the person who hired the person."

"Then why don't we go after _that_ cocksucker," he growled.

Her mouth twitched at the corners. "I don't need you guys to fight my battles for me. I gave Jax those pictures because I thought Clay and Gemma would want to know someone was taking photographs of their place of business. What Clay chose to do with that information is out of my hands."

"No one buys your innocent act, Ollie."

"Yeah, well, no one buys your creeper act, Chibs. Gimme a break."

He lifted a brow and leaned a little closer. "What? You think I don't like lookin' at you?"

"Well I'm not _disfigured_, but come on."

"Hhmm," he said. His eyes roved her, from the tips of her heavy black boots to the top of her head. His heavy gaze lingered on her mouth. The bright twist of her braid. Not, she noticed, her chest, which was something different.

"Chibs," she said with a strained sort of half-laugh. "Seriously."

He didn't blink. Didn't step back or look away.

She bit her lip, and his mouth quirked in a sardonic sort of grin. She remembered what Juice had said about when she did that, and with a brief frown she stopped. She was flustered, out of sorts, and she wondered what the hell he was up to.

Suddenly her jaw fell open and she pressed a finger to the center of his chest. "Someone told you."

"Told me? Told me what?" He glanced down at her hand in consternation, then back at her face.

"About _Ben_. So you think oh, sure, she fucked her twenty-six-year-old teacher, so she just must be fair game. She'll fuck anything with a penis! Just give her a couple of smoldering glances across the garage and those panties'll drop like they're on fire!"

His expression was an odd mix of amusement, surprise, and confusion. He grabbed her wrist, lightly, and pulled it away. "I honestly have no idea what you're talkin' about, lass." He paused. "You fucked your teacher?"

"My former teacher," she snapped.

"Ah."

"You really didn't know?"

"How would I know somethin' like that? I'm not plugged into the high school gossip mill."

"Right. With Jax and Ope and Juice working here, I'm sure you don't hear a fuckin' thing."

He shifted his weight and gave her an uneasy look from under his brows. "I mighta heard a whisper," he admitted.

"About?" she said.

"Ach, well…a bit about the football team. And…aye, somethin' about a teacher."

"Oh Jesus."

"I didn't believe it, of course. But now…?"

"The football team thing isn't true. The teacher thing…not until after he was fired."

His head tilted. "Aren't you just full of surprises, Ollie girl."

"Please don't get gross."

He moved his thumb in little circles against the pulse at the inside of her wrist. She had a feeling he didn't even realize he was doing it, and for some reason she didn't pull away. "Does lookin' at you count as gross?" he said, thoughtfully.

"Depends on how you're looking."

"Just appreciating the lovely sights before me. That's all."

Her nose scrunched and she looked away. "I think it would be better if you didn't," she said. She took her hand back. Her skin tingled where he'd been touching it.

There was a small silence. Then, quietly, "Maybe when you're a bit older, aye?" he said, and something in his voice made her shiver as her eyes widened just a little.

"Sure, Chibs," she said, choosing to take it as a joke. She grinned and tossed her braid over her shoulder. "Come find me when I'm twenty-five."

"So long? That's cruel, lassie."

"Good things come to those who wait, Chibby." Another quick flash of a smile and she went back to work, more than ready to forget any of this had happened at all.

"Aye," he said under his breath. "They certainly do."

* * *

She didn't tell Juice about it. It had been a weird moment, but nothing had happened, and she had a feeling Chibs had just been fucking with her. She didn't want Juice to get upset over nothing. He already seemed sort of…down…at school the next day. His smile was slower. Didn't really touch his eyes. He was distracted and just not quite _Juice_.

She grabbed him during free period and hauled him into the break room. When he started to kiss her she stopped him and led him to the couch instead. They sat down together, and she smiled at him, her mouth soft and her eyes bright.

"You gonna tell me what's up or keep acting weird all day?"

He let out a sigh and slumped against the cushions. "I was hopin' I could wait till after school," he said.

"You can if you want, but I'd rather you tell me now." She pulled a leg up and turned to face him. "Whatever it is, I'm listening."

He looked down at his boots, and there was a deep line between his brows. "It's my mom," he said at last.

Her heart skipped a beat and she reached for his hand. "Juice—"

"Not the cancer," he said, quickly. He squeezed her fingers and looked up. "She lost her job."

Olivia went still. "Her job at the mill," she said.

"That's the one."

She swallowed. "Did they say why?"

"She said they told her it's because she was missing so much work. She hasn't been there very long, so…?" He trailed off with a shrug.

"Fuck, Juicy," she said. "Fuck I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Liv. You know that, right? This isn't because of you."

"It might be!"

"But it's not. I don't want you blaming yourself for it. It's just…really shit luck. Now she's gotta find something else and she starts chemo next week so she's gonna feel like crap." He bowed his head and was quiet for so long she thought he might not speak again.

Then, voice thick, "I'm not real sure what we're gonna do."

"Oh, baby," she murmured. She rubbed his back and kneaded his shoulder. When it started to shake beneath her palm she pulled him against her and carded her fingers through his hair. Kissed his temple and held him tight.

"It was supposed to be different here. We had nothin' back in Queens. We were on fuckin' welfare and food stamps and the whole fuckin' thing. She got this great job out here and it was like finally we could breathe. Now this shit?"

"You said she did bookkeeping at the mill?" she said after a moment.

He nodded against her shirt, sniffling a little. "Yeah. Office management shit, I guess."

She made a soft, thoughtful noise. "You should talk to Gemma. I think she's been looking for some help around the garage. Office help, I mean."

He raised his head to look at her. "I can't do that."

"What? Why not? Your mom needs a job. Gemma needs an office manager."

"Gemma'd hire my mom out of, like. Charity. Because she does shit like that. That's not right."

"Gemma doesn't believe in charity, love. She _does_ believe in family helping family, and basically anyone who works at TM is family. She'd actually be really pissed if you _didn't_ ask her."

"No. I can't. It'd be too weird. Too much like begging."

She opened her mouth to argue further, but he'd gotten that hard, stubborn look on his face. She knew that look. He wasn't going to change his mind. She rolled her eyes and dismissed it with a wave of her hand.

"Okay," she said. "If you feel that strongly about it, don't. I think I heard something about the receptionist at the police station getting married. She's not coming back, I guess."

"That might work," he said. "She could get government benefits."

Except her cancer was a pre-existing condition, Olivia thought. Which was bullshit and so fucking unfair. Once her coverage from the mill lapsed it'd be virtually impossible for her to get covered for it again.

Now wasn't the time to mention that, though. In fact she thought maybe a change of subject was in order. She pushed him back against the cushions again and slid up into his lap. Cupped his face in her hands and kissed away the tears on his cheeks.

"It'll be okay, Juicy."

"How can you say that? You don't know that."

"Of course I do," she said with a grin. "Didn't I ever tell you I can see the future?"

He smiled in spite of himself and let his hands drift to her waist. "Oh yeah?" he said.

"Yep. Wanna hear a prediction?"

"Sure," he said. "Lay it on me."

She closed her eyes and scrunched her face up. "I predict…you're going to kiss me!"

He laughed. "That's not exactly a hard one."

"Then do it, silly, and prove me right."

"Hhhmm." He tangled a hand in her hair and used the other one to tug her closer. "You're real sweet sometimes, Liv. You know that?"

"Don't let that get around, Ortiz. It'll ruin my _other_ reputation as a stone cold bitch."

"I'd never," he said. He brushed his tongue over her bottom lip.

"Oh!" she said and straightened.

He made a face at her. "I thought I was supposed to kiss you."

"In a sec. I was wondering if tomorrow, when we go out…do you think maybe we could go for a ride?"

"A ride?" he said. He blinked. "Like on my bike?"

"No, in a hot air balloon. Yeah, silly, your bike."

"I thought you didn't like—"

"I don't. I mean, I do. I just can't, really, because of my hip. But a short ride wouldn't be bad, and it's supposed to be really pretty and I'd just…I think it'd be fun."

"Yeah," he said, his mouth moving in one of those sweet smiles that made her stomach clench every time. "It would be fun. Sure, babe. I'll take you for a ride."

She giggled. "Will you, Juan Carlos?" she said, her voice going low and breathy.

He cleared his throat and shifted a little. "Any time you want."

She ran her nose up the side of his neck. Pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his jaw. "I'm gonna hold you to that," she whispered against his skin.

He shivered. "Good," he said.

"I think it's time for you to kiss me now."

"Finally."

"Jerk," she said with a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who believes it." He captured her mouth before she could say anything else, and their quiet moans mingled as their tongues brushed.

"Thank you, Olivia," he said when the kiss finally broke.

"What for?"

He gave a sheepish sort of shrug. "Just…you. Bein' you. I really like you."

"I know you do, Ortiz," she said. "I'm sort of fond of you too."

"Sort of?"

"A little bit."

She let out a quiet shriek as he flipped her over onto her back. "You locked the door, right?" he said.

"Yeah, of course. Juice—"

"Shhh," he said. He nudged her t-shirt up and kissed her tummy. "I think I need a review of lesson one."

"Oh," she said on a breath. "Well far be it for me to come between a boy and his education."

* * *

_I'm planning to finish this story before I start anything else, so that's kind of exciting, right? :)_

_I broke a personal rule for this fic with the quote today: yes, it's BTE, but it's from _Before the Robots_, which was released in 2005. I wasn't gonna use anything later than 1999. Oh well._


	26. Everything

I'm so glad so many of you are excited about the return of this fic! Sorry for the slight update delay, but it's been a busy couple of days. I should be back to a more regular update schedule soon.

Enjoy!

* * *

**you calm the storms**  
**and you give me rest**  
**you hold me in your hands**  
**you won't let me fall**  
**you steal my heart**  
**and you take my breath away**  
**would you take me in**  
**take me deeper now**  
Lifehouse, "Everything"

The next afternoon when Olivia reported for her shift at TM she was relieved to see she was on with Tig and Jax rather than Chibs. Tig nodded when he saw her, his blue eyes earnest, and as she walked by he patted her shoulder, a surprisingly innocent touch from Tig.

"Don't worry," he said under his breath. "It's all taken care of."

Her head fell back so that she could look up at him—he was nearly a foot taller—and a small smile curved her mouth. "Thanks, Tiggy," she said. "He say who hired him?"

He studied her a moment, his brow furrowed. "Nope," he finally said. "We'll figure it out, though."

She nodded, he gave her one last squeeze, and they both went back to work. She let a few hours pass, and she'd just finished up an oil change when they finally hit a lull. She made sure Tig and Jax were good, then wandered toward the office.

Gemma called for her to come in, and she stepped inside warily. Gemma was at the desk, her glasses on her nose, and when she saw Olivia she took them off and her mouth twisted in a brief smile.

"What's up, sweetheart?" she said.

They hadn't spoken much since their confrontation over TJ, even though that had been ages ago. They were both stubborn, and neither liked to back down or apologize. Olivia thought maybe it was time. She took a deep breath and closed the door behind her.

"Gem, listen." She laced her fingers together and wandered toward the couch. Gemma, realizing Olivia had something on her mind, crossed around the desk and sat down next to her on the sofa.

"I'm listening."

"I just wanted to apologize for that thing about TJ Flanary. I was really rude to you, and you were just trying to look out for me." She paused. Bit her lip. "And you were right."

Gemma just lifted a brow and waited her out.

"He's an asshole, and I was stupid for not seeing it."

"No, baby. Not stupid. I'm just glad you got out before it was too late."

"Yeah," she said. "Me too." A brief hesitation. "If I did."

"You think he's the one behind the pictures?"

"I don't know. Probably. I don't get it, though. What's the big deal? We went out. It didn't work. I broke up with him. Why would that translate into him being obsessed with me?"

Gemma sighed and shook her head. "There are some boys who don't know how to take _no_ for an answer. It just won't get through their stupid thick skulls. It's not anything you did." She paused and patted Olivia's hand. "It's gonna be okay, baby. The boys are gonna track down whoever hired that photographer and get him off your back."

"You don't think that might be dangerous? I mean, if it is TJ, his dad—"

"You let us worry about Teddy."

"Yeah," she said, brow furrowing, "okay, Gem."

There was a quiet moment while Olivia eyed the desk and the huge stack of paperwork there. "Looks like you're busy."

Gemma rolled her eyes. "Juice got the computer going again, but in the meantime all this shit piled up. We've been so busy the past couple months I'm not sure I'll ever catch up at this point." She sighed. "I really gotta hire somebody, but what a pain in the ass."

"I might actually have a solution for you."

"Oh?" Gemma said. "You a secretary now?"

"Right. That'll be the day. No, listen."

God Juice was gonna kill her for this. But he was being so fucking pigheaded about it and his mom really needed a job and Gemma really needed the help. It wasn't charity. It was a solution to two problems, and if Ms. Ortiz were working at TM she wouldn't have to worry about getting fired for having cancer, or because her kid punched somebody in the face.

"So, you know how Juice got suspended for punching TJ?" she said.

"Uh huh."

"Well TJ's suspension was two weeks to Juice's one, and TJ got kicked off school sports and prom court and, like, everything. I haven't seen him, but I know for a fact he gave a girl a black eye over it, and…I think he got Juice's mom fired from the mill."

"Jesus Christ," Gemma muttered. "Are you shittin' me?"

"Nope," she said, even though she knew the question was rhetorical. "Okay, I probably shouldn't be telling you this part, but…Ms. Ortiz has cancer. She was diagnosed a little bit ago, and she starts chemo next week. They told her they let her go because she'd been missing too much work, but seriously. It's really suspicious timing."

Gemma eyed her for several long seconds. "Juice send you in here to ask me to give his mom a job?"

Olivia's mouth fell open. "Holy shit, Gem, of course he didn't! He has no idea I'm doing this. I told him he should talk to you, but he didn't want—he didn't want any charity."

"Charity? He's family."

"That's what I told him. But, I mean…" She trailed off with a shrug.

"Stubborn."

"Yeah." She smiled a little, hopefully. "Anyway, she was a bookkeeper at the mill, did office manager type stuff, so it's really exactly what you need around here. I mean, she'll be in chemo, so I guess she'll be pretty sick, but—"

Gemma waved that away. "I don't need full time help anyway. Just someone to come in and get me out from behind this wall of paper, then help keep it under control." She sighed. "You really care about that boy, don't you, sweetheart?"

Olivia frowned. Bit her lip again and looked away. "He's…I don't know. He's…special. That sounds lame, but I don't know. There's part of me that thinks it's just, like, rebound, I guess? From TJ. Not that I was all into TJ. Not that kinda rebound. But just because Juice is basically the exact opposite." Her nose scrunched. "Does that make sense?"

"Of course it does," Gemma said. "He's a sweet kid. Hard worker. Loyal. Just the kind we need around here."

Olivia tried to keep her expression neutral. She personally thought Juice should steer as clear of the MC as he possibly could, but she didn't want to say that aloud. He _was_ a sweet kid, and he didn't need to get involved with whatever shady shit SAMCRO got up to.

Instead she cleared her throat and pushed herself to her feet. "Thanks, Gemma. I really appreciate it. And if maybe you wouldn't mention this conversation to Juice…?"

She stood and crossed her arms over her chest. "You don't think he's gonna figure it out when I call up his mom for a little chat about employment opportunities?"

She hitched a shoulder. "Just say you need an office manager and you heard that's what she does. You don't like hiring strangers, and since you think so well of Juice you thought you'd check in and see if she was in the market for a job. Don't even tell her you know about the mill thing."

"You sneaky little bitch," Gemma said.

"Yeah, well. Sometimes boys are dumb."

"Sometimes?" She snorted. "You're young, Ollie. You'll learn."

* * *

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and after her shift she hurried home to shower and change. She didn't dress up: just jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt; and she was brushing out her hair when she heard Juice's bike. She went to the door and leaned against the frame. Waited as he stripped off his helmet and hurried up to the porch.

He paused a few steps away and tucked his hands in his pockets. His mouth moved in one of those _smiles_, the kind that lit up his face and creased his eyes at the corners, and her heart flipped over about ten times and she pressed a hand to her face as she laughed.

"What?" he said.

"Nothing. I just—" She laughed again, like an idiot, and he looked more confused than ever. "Come here and kiss me, Ortiz."

"Okay," he said, more than happy to comply. They met halfway, and he pulled her closer by the waist. One hand came up to rest against her cheek, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, and for a moment he just looked at her.

"What?" she said, echoing him with a grin.

His expression turned grave, his eyes dark and serious. "Nothing," he said through a throat gone thick.

She opened her mouth to say something else, but he kissed her before she could. Slow and lingering, hot and maybe a tiny bit possessive; an outpouring of everything he couldn't say. Everything he didn't have words for, and everything he knew she wouldn't want to hear anyway.

She must've understood, at least partially, because when she pulled away there was a line between her brows. "Juice—"

"Don't say anything. Please. Just—for a sec, okay?"

He rested his forehead against hers and caressed the back of her neck. She wanted to kiss him again, to taste his mouth and to feel that weird, crazy, wild whatever-it-was that happened whenever their lips met. Ever since Christmas he was the only one she'd wanted to kiss, and she had a feeling Ben had known that all along. Portland hadn't been a tough decision for him, after all.

"Juice," she said again, a whisper this time.

"It's okay, Olivia."

"But—"

"It's okay." He kissed her forehead. The scrunch she made of her nose. Her full, soft mouth. "It really is okay."

But his smile was wistful as he pulled away, and she wondered if she wasn't going to fuck this whole thing up. But she didn't know how to be any other way, so she took him at his word, laced her fingers through his, and shut the door behind her.

"You promised me a ride, Ortiz."

"That's right," he said. "I did, didn't I?" Once they were at the bike he handed her a helmet and waited for her to mount up behind him. "Where to, beautiful?"

"The pines?"

"Good choice. Hang on."

She wrapped her arms around him and pressed a brief kiss to the side of his neck. He kept his speed low until he was on the road out of town, and then he gunned it. The wind hit her face, surprising a laugh out of her, and he grinned at the sound of it. He took the long way, choosing back roads and turn offs seemingly at random, until finally he pulled off and cut the engine.

"You know, I was planning to actually take you out. Like for dinner or something."

She hopped off the bike. "I'll make us something when we get back to my place."

"No need," he said. He pulled a bag out of the side storage and stowed their helmets. "I brought food."

"A picnic?" she said, strangely delighted.

"Yeah, I guess." He helped her up the steep slope and unpacked the bag once they reached the clearing under the trees. He had a blanket. A container of his mom's pasta salad. Three sandwiches and two sodas and a baggie with homemade chocolate chip cookies that she recognized as Gemma's.

"Oh my God," she said.

"What?"

"This is maybe the cutest thing ever."

He blushed and looked away. "I figured you'd be hungry, that's all. And since you said you wanted to go for a ride, I wasn't sure we'd make it to a restaurant or anything, so…"

He trailed off with a shrug and spread the blanket on the ground. Once they were settled he reached for a sandwich, but she grabbed his hand.

"Maybe let's start with dessert first," she said.

"The cookies? Yeah, sure."

She twisted around and slid up onto his lap. Took his face in her hands and slicked her tongue over his lower lip. "I didn't mean the cookies."

His eyes went big and the baggie fell from his fingers. "Oh," he said. "Hey now. Did you bring me all the way out here just to make out with me? Because I'm…I'm…not really…"

She was kissing the side of his neck, swirling her tongue behind his ear and nipping the corner of his jaw with her lips. "You're not really what, baby?" she murmured.

He swallowed hard. "You know, Liv, it's been like a week since we've…except for yesterday, and that was…"

"A lot of fun," she said, sliding her hands under his shirt.

"Yeah. A lot. I just mean—"

"What, Juicy? You're feeling a little…frustrated?"

He shifted beneath her, suddenly glad she was wearing jeans. "A little. But I get it if you still want to stick to what we talked about last weekend. Not messing around, I mean. Because I like just hanging out with you, like talking and stuff. If you want to just eat and not…we can. That's all I'm sayin'."

Her head tilted thoughtfully. "You know girls get frustrated too. Right?"

"Um. I mean. Yeah, of course." He blinked. "Are you saying—?"

"Yesterday was fun. And frustrating."

"That wasn't really my goal," his said, wryly.

"I know," she said with a grin. "But it wasn't like we could…not in that situation. So, I mean. I took care of it last night when I got home, but it's not the same."

His mind blanked for a few seconds. "Not the same as what?" he finally managed.

"You, Juice," she said. "Your hands." She kissed him. "Your mouth. I miss the way you touch me."

He ran his palms down her back and smiled. "I'll touch you anytime you want, Liv. You know that."

"Good," she said, her tone urgent. "Then touch me now, Juan Carlos. Please."

He flipped them over so that she was stretched out on her back. Dipped his head to drop a soft kiss against the hollow of her throat. "You want me to make you come, Livvie? Is that what you're askin' for?"

"Uh huh," she said. "Please."

"How?"

She hooked her finger under his chin and raised it up so that their eyes met. Her thumb brushed over his lips and her brow quirked. "Can't you guess, baby?"

"You mean it?" he breathed.

She glanced away, suddenly unsure. "If you want to, I mean. I don't want you to think you have to or something."

He laughed. "Look at me, Olivia."

Her eyes moved slowly to meet his, her expression nervous and uncertain.

"You have any idea how long I've wanted…I mean, since way before that night on the phone, but since then it's been—" He cut himself off. "Yes, Liv. I absolutely want to go down on you."

She shivered. He nudged the hem of her t-shirt up and kissed her tummy. Paused a moment to study her face.

"Is everything okay?"

"Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know. You just seem…not quite you."

"Um." She ran her fingers through his hair and tried to smile. The truth was she wasn't quite herself. She didn't _feel_ like herself. She felt…unsure. Out of her depth. Normally with Juice it was easy, but for some reason looking at him now she wondered if maybe she hadn't been going about this the wrong way the whole time.

"Liv?"

She blinked and snapped back to the present. "Sorry. I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired or something. It's been kind of a weird week."

"Weird few weeks," he said with a quirk of his mouth.

"No shit." She traced the lines of his face with her fingertips. He closed his eyes and leaned into her gentle touch, giving a low hum of pleasure.

"You like me, don't you, Ortiz?" she said. "_Me_, I mean. Not my boobs or, I don't know. Some idealized version of me that isn't me at all."

His eyes opened with a frown. "I like your boobs a lot."

"Juice! I'm serious."

A brief sigh. "Would you think a second about our history? I'm pretty sure my idealized version of you went out the window a while ago."

"I'm not entirely sure how to take that."

He rolled over to lie next to her and gathered her against him. "Babe, listen to me. Whatever's going on in your head, whatever weird thing you're worrying about now, forget it. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

She tangled her fingers in his shirt and took a moment to just enjoy the feel of his arms around her.

"We can just eat and I'll take you home if you want," he said into her hair.

"That was sort of the plan," she said with a giggle.

"That's not what I meant."

She tilted her head back to look at him, a wicked smile curving her mouth. "How unfortunate." Wiggling out of her shirt, she took his hand and slid it up to her breast. "You want me, Juicy?"

He let out a long breath. "Of course I do. You know I do. I always want you."

"Okay then. Why are we still talking?"

"Olivia, babe, I'm trying—"

"I know," she said. "I know and I appreciate it. But I'm tired of thinking and worrying. I just want to feel good. No one makes me feel as good as you, Juicy."

He kissed her, long and sweet, and kneaded her breast. "You're so sexy, Livvie. So beautiful. I just wanna kiss you forever."

She smiled, a blush touching her cheeks. "Forever's a long time."

He met her eyes, and his were steady. "I know it is."

"We should get started then."

She hooked her fingers in his shirt and pulled him on top of her again. He fisted a hand in her hair. Smiled down at her a moment before their mouths met. He slid his hands behind her back to undo her bra and she helped him get rid of his shirt. He held her tight against him, skin on skin, as his tongue stroked against hers and she caressed his back and shoulders.

He kissed his way down her neck and chest, nipping her soft skin with his lips, until he got to her breasts. He lingered there, sucking first one of her nipples into his mouth, then the other, back and forth until she was gasping and wiggling beneath him.

"Juicy! That's so good, baby!" she whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He lifted his head to look at her. "Lesson number three, I guess?"

"Hhmm?"

"One was…" He tweaked a swollen nipple. "And two was fingering. So I guess it's time for number three."

"Ohh." Her mouth moved in a lazy grin. "What if we skipped the lesson portion and you just do your thing?"

"Really?"

She lifted a brow. "You don't sound sure."

"Well, no, I mean…that's fine. Great. I just…"

"What, baby?"

He sighed, scowling. She knew it wasn't directed at her, though, so she just waited him out. "I like it when you tell me what to do," he said at last.

She let out a breath. "Oh," she whispered. She bit her lip around a grin. "How about you do what you want until you get there, then I tell you what to do?"

"Yeah," he said with a grin. "That sounds good."

He watched her face as he kissed a line down the center of her body to the waist of her jeans. She curled her fingers in his hair and smiled. Encouraged, he unbuttoned her jeans and lowered the zipper. Her panties were white with little blue polka dots, and he kissed the fabric as the denim parted to reveal it.

She made a soft noise, and he pulled her pants down her legs. Earlier she'd toed off her shoes, and now she kicked her jeans away. He paused a moment, knelt between her knees, and just looked at her. His hand as he pressed it against her belly was big and warm, a dark contrast to her pale skin, and he flipped it over to trail the knuckles between her breasts down to her bellybutton.

"You've got the most beautiful skin, baby. The way it goes all pink when I touch you." He kissed the curve of her hip. "The freckles." Ran a fingertip over the scars that started there. "And these."

Her brow furrowed. "What?"

"I've been wanting to kiss these forever. Since the first time I saw them. I know you don't like them, but I think they're beautiful." He lowered his chin and trailed his tongue along the raised line. Kissed it softly. Trailed wet, sucking kisses down her thigh and over each scar, including the big one where they'd attached the plate to her femur.

"Juice…" She was breathless, speechless. She'd never thought anyone would tell her they were _beautiful_. Would want to even touch them, much less kiss them. And he'd been wanting to…forever? Tears suddenly brightened her eyes, and when he noticed them he froze.

"What? Did I hurt you? Did I—?" He had no idea. She was in such a strange mood today, and he couldn't get any sort of read on her like he usually could.

"No," she said, quickly. "No, I just…no one's ever said that before. It sort of…you took me by surprise."

He grinned. "Good surprise?"

She trailed her fingers down his cheek. "Yeah, Juicy. Wonderful surprise."

Dropping one last kiss on her leg, he lapped up the inside of her thigh, pausing here and there to suck the velvety skin. "Wanna lick you so bad, Livvie," he murmured. "Wanna taste you. Want my tongue in you when you come."

She shuddered, her back arching, and hooked her thumbs in the waist of her panties. "Get rid of these, love."

He was tugged them down her legs, his palms caressing her as he went, and then he was back between her thighs. He pressed a kiss to her labia and smiled up at her, his expression suddenly shy.

"Tell me what you like," he said, trailing a fingertip along her slit. She was hot and slick, and he thought he might actually drool.

"Don't start with my clit," she said.

"Tease you?" His voice was husky, rough, and it made her shiver.

"A little, yeah."

He let out a quiet moan and let his tongue follow the same path his finger had just traveled. She wiggled, sighing, and he dipped between her lips.

The taste of her made him drunk. Dizzy and light-headed. Musky and spicy and as sweet as he'd always expected. He'd tasted her before, on his fingers. On hers. But this was completely different.

"Taste so fucking good, baby. Goddamn." He nipped her labia with his teeth and she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. He swirled his tongue over her outer lips, then slid between them to lap at the inner. He used the very tip to explore every crease and fold of her, lap up every drop.

She whispered his name, a breathless litany, and he sucked her lips into his mouth.

"Juicy!" she moaned, her back arching.

"Oh. Good?"

She laughed, low and honeyed. "Yes. Yes, good."

He captured one of them between his lips and rubbed his tongue up and down. She squirmed, tugging at his hair a little, and he took the hint. He made his tongue flat and soft and lathed up to her clit. Swirled around it without touching, then barely brushed over it.

"Baby, please!"

He chuckled. "Had enough teasing?"

"Yeah, babe. Please, Juicy."

He pressed his mouth to her, her clit between his lips, and sucked. Harder when she bucked against him. He lashed his tongue back and forth across her clit and the muscles in her thighs danced. Hooked his arms under her knees and hauled her closer, the blanket bunching beneath her and releasing the scent of pine into the air.

He thought maybe from now on the smell of pine would make him hard, like, instantly.

He spread her lips with two fingers and pressed his tongue against her clit. Wiggled it in a slow circle that made her head fall back and her tiny, gasping moans go high-pitched and almost silent.

"Fingers," she managed between breaths. "Use your fingers, baby!"

He pushed two fingers into her and rubbed them against her g-spot. "Like that? That what you want, Livvie?"

"Yes, yes fuck yes please oh God!"

He twisted them inside her and lapped at her clit, alternating between long, slow lathes and short, teasing flicks.

"So good, Juicy, oh God that's so good. Don't stop please don't stop fuck yes!"

He groaned against her and licked harder. Faster. Ran his tongue back and forth from her clit to where his fingers were thrust deep inside her; captured the throbbing nub for a series of deep, quick sucks.

"Fuck! That's it! Yes yes yes oh God yeah Juicy yeah _yes_!"

She came hard, her hips jerking and her head twisting back and forth as she dissolved into wordless, incoherent cries and moans. She shuddered and ground his face against her. The orgasm went on and on, wave after wave, molten and electrifying. He kept rolling her clit between his lips, soft and gentle, until she was whimpering and spent. Then he slowly eased his fingers out of her and dropped one last kiss on her slick and swollen labia before he moved up to lie next to her.

Her head lolled to look at him, and he had the biggest, smuggest grin she'd ever seen in her life stretching from ear to ear.

"That seemed like it went okay," he said. "What's your verdict?"

She smacked his chest with the back of her hand. "Don't _gloat_, Ortiz." She turned over to face him and traced her tongue around his mouth.

"_A_ plus? Double check mark?" he said, still smirking.

"Oh shut up." She cupped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer for a long, hot kiss. "Yes, you adorable idiot. That was incredible. You are a _very_ quick study."

He hitched a shoulder. "I just thought about what you like me to do to your nipples. And how you like me to use my fingers. Then I did that."

"Ahhh. Learning has occurred. What a good student you are, Juan Carlos."

"I don't hear that very often," he said, laughing a little.

"Liar. Honor roll, remember?"

"Oh yeah. So maybe sometimes." He dipped his head to lick a drop of sweat off the side of her neck, and when he looked up again his warm brown eyes were suddenly shy. "So when can I do it again?"

She blinked at him. "Um." Wiggled a little. "Right…now…I guess?"

"Really?"

He sounded so delighted she had to laugh. "Far be it for me to dampen your excitement for going down on me. Yeah, Juicy. Really."

"Oh good," he said and made his way down her body again.

* * *

_For those of you worried about the Chibs thing last chapter, don't. It won't really come up again in this one. Sort of, but not really._


	27. Don't Know

Hi again, all. Fun times ahead. :/ Enjoy...

* * *

**our love's just smithereens**  
**too much beer in my head**  
**another night is getting late**  
**and i don't know where to go**  
**there's just this long white road**  
**and i can't think straight**  
**no i can't think straight**  
David Gray, "It's All Over"

A week later Olivia had dropped by the garage to pick up Juice, but as she pulled into the lot her dad's stupid truck starting making wheezing, choking sorts of noises. She rolled her eyes; stupid fucking thing. She popped the hood and hopped out, poking and prodding and generally muttering. She wanted the Cougar back. So, so bad.

She didn't notice that Tig and Chibs had stopped to stare.

She was wearing short cut-offs and a plaid shirt tied at her waist. Shiny red Airwalks and…very little else besides the generous fall of bright hair. Her legs were long and pale and scattered with freckles, and since Juice told her he thought her scars were beautiful she hadn't felt the need to cover them up nearly as much.

Chibs nudged him. "Shouldn't be starin' at her like that, Tiggy."

"You're starin' too."

"Aye, but…I'm just checkin' to make sure she doesn't need any help with that blue beastie."

Tig snorted. "Sure, brother. I buy that."

Juice ambled over to the truck and said something to her. She laughed and they kissed, briefly, then he joined her under the hood. She straightened a moment to pull her hair back, running both hands through the coppery strands and then twisting it all up into a knot that she secured with a rubber band.

Tig swallowed hard. "Think they're fuckin'?"

Chibs took a drag off his cigarette and cut his eyes at Tig. "Look at her, Tiggy," he said.

She walked around to the passenger's side and leaned in to search for something. She was draped half across the bench seat, half in the floorboard, and her ass was up in the air like an invitation.

"That's a girl who knows how to get what she wants, and if what she she _wants_ is to be well and thoroughly fucked—well." Chibs shrugged and ground out the butt. He tried not to think about what she'd said the other day, about her teacher, because it brought all sorts of thoughts into his head that were completely inappropriate, and borderline, to use her word, gross.

"I bet she makes him beg, though," Tig said. She was back at the front of the truck again, and she handed Juice a wrench she'd dug up. He grinned at her, his face brightening, and it was clear he was totally besotted.

"I bet he loves it," said Chibs.

A silence fell as they watched them. Finally Tig said, "Those pictures, man."

"What about them?" Chibs said with a frown.

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Just wondering what else he took pictures of. I mean, was he watchin' her at home? Like, maybe, in her bedroom?"

Chibs turned toward him, his expression incredulous. "Her _bedroom_?"

"Yeah. Ya know, at night. In her cute little nightie or whatever."

Chibs closed his eyes and scraped a hand down his face. "You are one twisted fuck, Tigger."

"Now you're gonna be thinkin' about it, too."

"Thinkin' about what?" Gemma said.

They both jumped and spun toward her, their faces matching expressions of innocence. "Nothin', Gem," Chibs said. "We were talkin' about lunch, is all. Tig mentioned, uh—"

"Thanksgiving. Those yams with the little marshmallows on top. Been dreamin' about somethin' hot and sweet like that all morning."

Gemma glanced across the lot at Olivia and Juice and back at them. "Uh huh," she said. "How about you two quit droolin' and get back to work."

"Aye, mama," Chibs said.

She turned away with a snort and called out to Juice. He glanced their way with a questioning look, and she smiled. "Come in the office a minute, sweetheart. Need to talk to you about somethin'."

"Sure, Gem," he said and trotted toward them. He nodded to Chibs and Tig as he went by, and they kept their faces blank as they returned the greeting.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Chibs glared at Tig. "Perverted shite," he said.

He lifted both hands in a shrug. "So sue me," he said, his blue eyes big and guileless. "You were thinkin' the exact same thing, so don't try to lie about it."

Chibs squinted across the lot before he looked back at Tig. "I gotta go take a piss."

Tig blinked at him, then grinned. "Yeah, brother," he said. "But hurry up. I gotta go too."

"Aye," Chibs said, shortly, before he took off for the clubhouse.

* * *

By the time Juice got back Olivia had fixed the problem. Stupid radiator. It'd need a new one soon, and it was absolutely not worth the expense or effort. But they couldn't afford anything new. Maybe someone around the club knew somebody who knew somebody who had some old piece of shit they wanted to get rid of for cheap. At this point nearly anything would be better than the truck.

She climbed up into the cab and waited for him, but his pace across the lot was trudging. His shoulders were tense, jaw tight and hands fisted. Uh oh. Gemma must've talked to him about his mom and he knew there was only one way Gemma could have that information.

So how pissed was he going to be?

The passenger door opened, and at the sight of his face she reached for him. "I can explain."

"Explain what, Liv?" He boosted himself into the seat and slammed the door shut. "Explain that you told Gemma my private business that I thought was gonna stay between us? Or explain how you did exactly what I asked you _not_ to do and asked Gem to hire my mom? Is there anything else? Something I missed?"

She pressed her fingers to her forehead. _Fuck_. "Juice, please, I just—"

"Can we not have this conversation here?" he said. His voice was hard, his eyes cold, and she realized she'd _really_ fucked up.

She put the truck in gear and drove toward her house. They'd planned to spend the afternoon there together anyway, but she had a feeling things were going to fall out much differently than she'd pictured it. The ride was tense and silent, and she could feel his anger like a physical thing.

She parked in her driveway and they climbed out. Walked toward the house and inside. She paused a moment, wondering if bedroom or living room would be better, but in the end led him down the hall. She closed the door behind them even though she wasn't expecting her dad, then watched Juice as he paced.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

He stopped and spun toward her. "Really? Are you really? Because it seems like you got your way. Gem offered my mom a job and she said yes. She starts Monday."

Her mouth opened. Closed again. Finally, carefully, "Isn't that a good thing?"

"I don't want charity, Olivia!"

"It's not charity, Juice. Gemma considers you family. Do you get that? TM and the club and everything; it's a family. She would do the exact same thing for me if my dad were fired. Or if Donna needed a job. Whoever."

"Why the fuck did you tell her about the cancer? I told you that in confidence! That was between you and me."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just thought she should know. I knew it wouldn't make any difference about whether she'd hire her, but…"

He glared at her, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Juice, baby, I'm sorry. Gemma really does need the help, and your mom needs a job. Why _shouldn't_ Gemma offer it to her? She hates hiring strangers and now she doesn't have to."

"Great. You and Gemma get the entire world lined up just the way you like it," he said, glowering.

Her head tilted. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"C'mon, Liv! You gotta have everything just your way. Touch me, don't touch me. I'm not your girlfriend, I am your girlfriend. Tell people, don't tell people. All Olivia's way!"

"What…?" She stared at him, astounded. "Juice, you said you were _fine_ with all that! You said you wanted to take things slow, let me set the pace. You said you loved me telling you what to do! Thursday at the pines you were disappointed when I wanted you to take the lead!"

He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "I am. I have been. It's not—you just can't run other people's lives, Olivia! It doesn't work that way."

"I wasn't trying to _run your life_, Juice. I was trying to _help_ you."

"Right. Help me when I specifically asked you not to. When you told me you wouldn't! Is that how it's gonna be? You keep my secrets and you respect my decisions—but only when it suits you. Otherwise you go behind my back and rearrange it all."

"It wasn't like that! I love you, Juice, and I can't stand the idea of you being unhappy or hurt, especially if there's something I can do about it! Okay, yes, I probably shouldn't've gone behind your back. I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to help."

He stared at her, wide-eyed, and it looked like he'd barely heard anything she'd just said.

"What?" she said. She was getting angrier. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and her hair was falling down from the knot she'd tied it in back at the garage. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "_What_, Ortiz?"

"You just said—" He choked. Cleared his throat and tried again. "You can't say that! That's not fair!"

"What? Can't say _what_? I can't apologize?"

"No, Jesus, you—" He surged toward her and grabbed her by the arms hard enough to make her yelp. She stared up at him and her mouth trembled. He dipped his head and captured her lips in a rough, furious kiss. He bit at her lips. Scraped the inside of her mouth with his tongue.

"You can't tell me you love me just to get out of a fight," he grated against her mouth.

"I—what?" she breathed. She replayed the last several seconds over in her head. She'd told him—how—no. No. He had to've misheard.

"Yeah," he said at the expression on her face, his tone bitter. "That's what I thought." He pushed away and turned his back on her.

Rubbing her fingers against her stinging lips, she stared at him. "I didn't say it to get out a fight," she said, finally. Her voice was small, uncertain, and thick with tears.

"Why then?" He didn't look at her, barely even jerked his head in her direction.

She shuffled closer, her brow creased and her face tense. She reached for him. Let her hand hover in the air for a few heartbeats before she stroked her palm down his back.

He flinched and she went still.

"Juice—"

"It's all right, Olivia," he said, roughly. "You don't gotta say anything else. I get it."

"Clearly you don't!" she said, suddenly frustrated all over again. She grabbed his arm and pulled him around, but he dug his heels in and wouldn't move. With an annoyed huff she crossed in front of him and jabbed her finger against his chest.

"Don't you dare tell me how I feel, Juice Ortiz. Okay, maybe I didn't mean to say it. Maybe it just slipped out. But that should tell you something, shouldn't it? When I'm not thinking about it so fucking hard the first thing I say is that I love you. Because I _do_. I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much I don't have a clue how to make sense of it.

"I fucked up, okay? I shouldn't have gone behind your back and I shouldn't have broken your confidence. I'm _sorry_. I don't know what else to say!"

He stared down at her, his face scrunched. "Say it again."

"I'm sorry."

"Not that, Olivia. Tell me you love me. Say it when you aren't pissed and when you _are_ thinking about it."

She sighed softly and rested her palm against his chest. "Juice, I love you. I'm sorry I've made this so difficult and if I could go back I'd do it all differently. Please, Juicy. Just…give me another chance, okay?"

He took her hand and squeezed it. "I wasn't gonna break up with you, Liv. I'm just…I'm fuckin' pissed."

"I know. I get it." She pressed her hands against him and searched his face with big, imploring eyes. "How can I make this better?"

He shook his head and took her by the arms, gently this time. Eased her away from him. "You can't, Olivia."

Her mouth fell open. "Babe—"

"You had to know how I'd react. You knew what I was mad about the second you saw me. But you did it anyway. Tell me I'm wrong."

Of course she couldn't. Her chin trembled and tears filled her eyes. "I thought you weren't breaking up with me," she whispered.

"I'm not," he said. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm not breaking up with you, but I need some time with this. I've done everything you wanted me to do. Always. And the _one_ thing I asked was that you not tell anybody about my mom."

Her jaw went tight and she looked away. "You want a medal, Ortiz?" she said through clenched teeth.

"What?"

"You've done everything I wanted you to do. So, what? You didn't force me to have sex with you? I let you do what you _begged_ me to do. I sucked your dick and made you come in half a dozen extremely creative ways, and even though I told you from _day one_ that I didn't want a relationship, that's what this has become. But _you_ have done everything _I_ wanted you to do."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I never wanted this, Juice! Do you get that? I never wanted to fall in love with you. I never wanted to feel _anything_. I just wanted some fun. You're the one who made it more! You're the one who insisted on holding hands and going on dates and being an actual couple. _You're_ the one who asked me to prom and called my scars beautiful and let me set the pace every single step of the way. So don't blame me now if you're suddenly unhappy with the way things've gone down."

The muscles in his cheek danced and his lips were a tight line. "I just wanted to treat you good, Liv. I wanted you to see that you're worth more than a quick fuck."

She surged toward him, small and furious and up in his face. "I know that! There is absolutely nothing wrong with my self esteem. The last thing I need is your pity!"

He fell back and lifted his hands. "Fine, Olivia. Believe what you want. You're going to anyway. I'm goin' home. I'll call you tomorrow, when we've both had a chance to cool off."

"Don't bother," she hissed.

He studied her for a long time, but finally he gave a short nod. "Okay," he said. "I won't." He turned around and walked out, and a few seconds later she heard her front door close.

"Fuck," she said. She stood frozen. Had _she_ just broken up with _him_? Had she told him she loved him then broken up with him?

She pressed both hands over her mouth to hold back a scream. How could she be so stupid? So fucking smug and stubborn and _blind_? He was sweet and smart and funny and everything she'd been looking for without even realizing it, and now she'd just…thrown him away. Like he was nothing.

Suddenly something occurred to her and she sprinted down the hall. Threw open the closet and let out a hard breath.

It was still there. He'd left his jacket. She grabbed it off the hanger and somehow made it back to her room before the sobs doubled her over.

* * *

"Hey, pumpkin," her father said as he joined her in the kitchen the next morning.

She sat at the table in a t-shirt, shorts, and a leather jacket that was way too big. A bowl of soggy cereal and a full glass of orange juice were in front of her. He paused to study her face. He didn't recognize the jacket, but it didn't look like her style, exactly. And there was the size. He thought he could make an educated guess about its owner…and what might have prompted her to put it on this morning.

Her eyes were damp and her nose red. She'd been biting her nails. She wore no makeup, not even the mascara she rarely left her room without. He sighed and settled across from her, and she finally seemed to notice him for the first time.

"Oh," she said. "Hi, Daddy. Didn't hear you come in."

"You look like you have something on your mind."

"No." Her voice was quiet, rough. "Not really. Just didn't get much sleep last night."

"Your light was off when I got home."

"I know. Just tossed and turned a lot, though."

He opened his paper and pretended to read it as he peered at her from behind the folds. She fiddled with her spoon and stared at nothing.

"How's Juice?" he said, keeping his tone casual.

Her face fell and he felt like an asshole. He put the newspaper aside and waited.

"We broke up, I guess," she finally said.

He made a low noise of sympathy. "What happened, sweetheart? I thought you really liked him, and I know he liked you."

She nodded and crumpled a napkin in her hand. "I did something pretty bad."

Frowning, he shifted in his seat. "You didn't—you wouldn't…?"

"Oh my God, Daddy! I didn't _cheat_ on him! I would never do that."

He held up a hand. "I know, honey, I know. I'm sorry." He sighed. Some days it was like a minefield around here, but he guessed he'd maybe deserved it that time. "So what happened?"

"You know Ms. Ortiz got fired from the mill right?"

"Yeah," he said, low and annoyed. "Bunch of bullshit."

"That's what I said. Gemma's been looking for an office manager, and that's basically what Ms. Ortiz did at the mill, so I asked Gemma if she'd consider giving her the job."

His brow furrowed. "Did she?"

"Yeah, and Ms. Ortiz accepted."

"Okay. I'm confused about the problem."

Olivia hauled in a breath and let it out. When she spoke again he could hear tears in her voice. "I also told her about the cancer, which Juice asked me not to tell anyone…and Juice didn't want to ask Gemma about his mom because he thought it would be like taking charity."

"Gemma doesn't look it at that way, I'm sure."

"No, of course not. But…" She trailed off with a shrug. "He accused me of going behind his back to rearrange everything my way."

"Did you?" he said, lifting a brow.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Nobody's side, Ollie. I'm just asking."

She scowled and pushed cereal around in her bowl. "I guess. Technically. But that's not how I meant it! He was being so stubborn, and it was a great solution. If Gemma was, like, making up a job for her it would be different. But she wasn't, and you know how she hates to hire strangers."

He sat back and studied her through knowing eyes. "Juice is crazy about you, pumpkin. I understand he might be angry, but I'm sure if you give him a day or two he'll calm down and you two can work it out. He'll realize you meant well and just went about it the wrong way."

After a moment she managed to paste on a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. He just needs to calm down a little."

"Exactly," he said. "I bet he calls before the end of the day."

"Sucker's bet," she said, but there was little conviction in her voice. "I'm not dumb enough to take that action."

He grinned and patted her hand. "That's my girl." His smile transformed to a glower as he caught sight of her bowl. "Throw that out. I'll make you some eggs."

"Thanks, Dad, but I'm not really hungry." She pushed back from the table and stood up. "I think I'll go do my homework."

"It's Saturday morning, Olivia."

"I know. I'll get it out of the way and have the whole weekend free."

He hesitated. Then, "Okay, pumpkin. I'll see you later."

She nodded and wandered off. He meant well. Of course he did. But she couldn't really bear to tell him that Juice wasn't going to be calling her today or any other. She'd sent him away because he'd hurt her and she couldn't handle having him that close.

She'd told him she loved him. She'd _meant_ it.

It wasn't what she wanted. Any of it. He was gone and it was better.

Maybe if she told herself that often enough she'd start to believe it.

* * *

And so the weekend wore on. He didn't call. He saw her Monday morning in algebra, and they nodded to each other but didn't say anything. He told Jax and Opie he had too much homework and couldn't hang out with the group, and they both accepted it without too many questions.

Tuesday he avoided the shop during free period, and as he scooted in just as second bell went, she was already shrouded in her welding gear. She heard the bell though, and she lifted the visor. When she saw him the hurt in her expression was something that would stick with him for a long time.

He scowled down at the oil filter in his hand. _She_ told _him_ not to call. _Don't bother_. That was a little more than just _don't call me because I'm pretty angry and need a little time_. She'd told him she loved him—he'd tried to forget that part, but he couldn't—and then she'd told him it wasn't what she wanted. She'd been real goddamn adamant about it, too.

He knew it wasn't what she wanted. He wasn't stupid. He'd been listening. It was mid-March. They'd been dancing around each other in one way or another practically since the beginning, but especially since the kiss at Christmas. Her answer to that had been to go out and fuck Mr. Collins. So how was she going to react to this?

That wasn't fair. The Mr. Collins thing hadn't had anything to do with him. And what he'd said, about wanting to show her she was worth more than a quick fuck—that hadn't been fair, either. She was a girl who liked sex. What was wrong with that?

"Lad. You gonna do somethin' with that filter or just make faces at it all day?"

Juice jerked and almost dropped it. Finally he had a good grip and he raised his head with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Chibs. Got distracted."

"Aye." He held out a hand. "Here. Time for your break anyway."

He nodded and wandered off, still holding the filter. Chibs rolled his eyes, grabbed another one from the shelf, and went to find the customer. He had a good idea what was wrong with the kid. It was Wednesday, and Olivia had worked Monday and Tuesday. She'd had a similar lost puppy look about her, but Juice elevated the _puppy_ part to a new art form.

Chibs got the thing installed, handed the whole deal off to Piney, and went looking for the kid. He sat on one of the picnic tables, his feet propped on the seat and his elbows on his knees. His head was bowed and his hands loosely clasped between his knees.

Sighing, Chibs ambled that way and sat down beside him. Lit a cigarette and leaned back to prop his elbows on the table.

"Can I have one of those?" Juice said.

Chibs cut his eyes up. "Didn't know you smoked, lad."

He hitched a shoulder. "Whatever. Not like it matters."

"Aye, well. I'm not your mama. Just don't let her catch you; or if she does, don't tell her where you got it." He fished another one out of the pack and passed it to Juice. Offered his lighter and watched in amusement as he lit it, took a long drag, and sat back to smoke like a pro.

He tossed Chibs his lighter back and smiled a little at the look on his face. "I smoked back in Queens. Thought people'd think I was cool."

"Did they?"

"Nope."

"Ach. Wee bastards."

They smoked a while in silence, watching the comings and goings around the lot.

Finally Chibs nodded toward Juice's mom's car. "See we've got a new employee around the place. Brightenin' things up, as it were."

Juice snorted and flicked some ash. "Yeah. Not really my idea, but I guess it works."

And it did. His mom had been so thrilled when she got home Monday, especially because Gemma didn't treat her like an invalid, she said. There was a lot to do and Gemma had basically just pointed her in the right direction and let her go. The pay was decent. Her benefits had started right away, which Juice had a feeling wasn't the usual case.

He wanted to be pissed. He really did. But fuck if Olivia hadn't been right all along.

"Somethin' on your mind, Juicy boy?" Chibs said at his glower. He paused. "Lady trouble, perhaps?"

"That fuckin' obvious?" Juice said, rough and bitter.

"Didn't take a genius, way the girl's been the past couple days. Now seein' you…well."

He looked at Chibs with a little frown. "I thought you were off the last two days."

"Ah…" He shifted his weight. "Aye, well, I'm still here. Around the clubhouse and whatnot. The club, yeah?"

"Right," Juice said. "The club." He flicked the butt away and hopped off the table. "Break over, I guess. Thanks for the smoke."

"Juicy," Chibs called as he walked away.

Juice turned, warily, and Chibs waved a hand. "Don't let her go easy, lad. Girl like that doesn't come around every day. Fight. You'll regret it if you don't."

"Yeah, Chibs," he said. "Thanks."

Good advice, in an objective sort of way. But he wasn't sure how practical it was. She'd been clear, and Juice wasn't an idiot. He wanted her. Wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anybody. He loved her.

If she didn't feel the same way, or if she did but for some reason didn't actually want to _be_ with him…well. What exactly could he do?

* * *

_So are they gonna get back together? Look, you never know with me. I guess we'll see. :)_


	28. With the Brakes On

The problem with taking that long break from this fic is I almost completely forgot one of the main plot threads. Haha oops. Oh well. We're good now. :)

* * *

**but unless the moon falls tonight**  
**unless continents collide**  
**nothing's gonna make me break from her side**

**'cos when you're driving with the brakes on**  
**when you're swimming with your boots on**  
**it's hard to say you love someone**  
**and it's hard to say you don't**  
Del Amitri, "Driving With the Brakes On"

It had been two weeks. It was the last Thursday before Spring Break, and Olivia would be glad for the vacation. She hated seeing him every day. Algebra three times a week, shop twice a week. She'd stopped going by there during free period, and her work was suffering.

She didn't care.

Which she fucking _hated_. She didn't want a _boy_ to make her just…stop. But she had. She went to school and TM, and that was it. Tara would ask her to hang out and she'd always come up with an excuse. It wasn't like she locked herself in her room and listened to Alanis Morisette and Hole all day (as Opie had accused her of). She just didn't really feel like going through the motions. Smile. Laugh. Make conversation.

She kept waiting for Tara to call her on her bullshit, but so far it hadn't happened. Obviously everyone knew she and Juice had split, but she hadn't told anyone why. She didn't know if he had or not. The one person who did know, apparently, was Chibs, because he'd cornered her a few days ago and told her it was time to get over it and go apologize.

He was probably right. She was the one who'd fucked up, after all. She was the one who'd told him not to call.

But what could she say? _I love you. I'm sorry. Come back._

That wasn't the type of person she was. That wasn't the sort of thing she said.

She wandered out to the parking lot after last bell, and her breath caught when she saw what was on the truck's windshield: a rose. Red. Tucked under the wiper.

Juice knew she didn't like roses. So who…?

She pulled it out, and when she got a closer look her mouth clamped into a grim line. On one side the rose was perfect, beautiful and fresh. On the back side, though, the side she couldn't see until it was in her hand, all the petals were missing. It was stripped bare, and as she studied it she could tell the work had been done carefully, with a knife or maybe even a scalpel. Jesus.

She shuddered and climbed into the truck. Opened the glove compartment and added the rose to the stash: a pair of her panties she'd found in her locker; a small box of chocolates with a tack stuck in each piece of candy; and now the flower. It was like Valentine's Day in Hell.

She hadn't told anyone about the gifts. She knew she probably should, but what did it matter anyway? Just TJ being a dick and trying to rattle her. The panties did, sort of. How had he gotten them? If they weren't hers then she had a pair exactly like them, and they'd gone missing a month or so ago.

"Hey, Gable!"

The voice came from nearby, but when she turned to look she thought she had to be mistaken. John Patric was jogging across the lot toward her truck, and he was waving like a mad man.

"Um, hi," she said when he was close enough. "You got the right person?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, of course. Listen, my parents are going on a cruise next week, so I'm havin' like a huge blowout. I mean, I'm tryin' to invite everybody. It's Wednesday. Starts at seven, but just get there whenever."

She blinked at him. "John—"

"I'm not inviting TJ. He's like the one person. I mean, I guess he could show up anyway, but look—all the lacrosse guys are pretty pissed at him. He's one of the best players on the team and he got himself kicked off for fighting. It was stupid."

"You aren't pissed at Juice?"

"I dunno. Kinda think TJ had it coming, really, especially since you and Ortiz were goin' out. Like, it woulda been weird if he hadn't done something, you know?"

_Were_. She hated that past tense. "Yeah. I know." She shook her head a little. "So why are you inviting _me_?"

"C'mon, Ollie. You're cool. TJ was a shit to you, and I shoulda said something. Katie said I should invite you."

"Katie?" Olivia paused. She had no idea what to make of that. It's possible this was a sincere invitation (from Katie; John was half a puppy), but it also could be the beginnings of a prank on par with Carrie at the prom.

Whatever. Fuck it.

"Sure, John. I'll be there. Are you inviting Jax and Ope, too?"

"I guess, yeah. If they wanna come. Doubt they will though."

Her mouth curved. "Probably not. They're kind of assholes."

He gaped at her. "They're your friends."

"Oh yeah, I know. I love them. But they're assholes."

"Um. Right. So anyway. See you Wednesday?"

"I'll be there."

"Cool. Katie'll be happy." He stepped back from the truck and waved before he took off the other way. She watched him go with a nonplussed little smile. Weird.

She got over herself a little and called Tara when she got home. Swallowed her pride and invited her over, and after some token grumbling Tara agreed.

"Well, well," she said when Olivia opened the door, "if it isn't my long-lost best friend."

"Oh shut up."

"I'm sorry? You barely speak to me in two weeks and then you tell me to _shut up_? I'm gonna have to ask you to not be a bitch to me for at least five minutes while I readjust."

Olivia sighed. "I'm sorry, Tara. You're a goddess and I'm unworthy to bask in the splendid glow of your presence. I've been a terrible friend and I deserve any and all righteous punishment you choose to visit upon me."

"Better," Tara said, grinning.

"You need anything else? I could bake you some cookies."

"Jesus, Ollie, are you trying to kill me? No. We're good. Now talk to me. What the fuck happened with you and Juice?"

"Oh my God. At least get in the house before you start grilling me." She stepped back and waved Tara inside. Once they got to Olivia's room Tara collapsed on the bed and snagged the latest issue of _Seventeen_ off the nightstand.

"I didn't invite you over to talk about Juice," Olivia said at last. She dropped into the desk chair and propped her feet on the edge of the bed.

She didn't look up from the magazine. "Of course you didn't. Doesn't mean we aren't gonna talk about it. Hey, you think I could pull this off?" she said and showed her a fashion spread.

Olivia snorted. "No one could pull that off, Tara. That's the point."

"Hhmm. Yeah, I guess." She dropped the magazine and fixed Olivia with a shrewd look. "So? Does it have something to do with Juice's mom suddenly working at TM?"

Olivia's nose scrunched. "Sort of." She recapped the entire fight for Tara, including what he'd said about her having to have everything her way, and what _she'd_ said about…loving him.

"Holy shit," Tara said when she was done. "You told him you loved him and then you kicked him out? Ollie—"

"You don't have to say it. Believe me, whatever it is I've said it to myself more than once in the last two weeks."

"But you meant it, right?"

"Yeah I meant it. I'm stupid, not a jerk."

"Both of those points are debatable," Tara said, dryly.

"My best friend, ladies and gentlemen."

Tara waved a hand. "So what're you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Olivia. You love him. He loves you. You had a stupid fight. Are you really going to let one fight derail everything?"

"I don't know," she said. "I don't have any idea what to do."

Tara sighed. "Talk to him. That's what you do. Apologize. Tell him how you feel. That's it. That simple. He's been as mopey and draggy as you the last two weeks. He misses you."

"Fine. I guess I could try to figure something out. I just…I really don't know. It seems like maybe I've waited too long."

"Maybe you have, but you won't know until you try."

She really hated it when Tara made so goddamn much sense. "That isn't why I asked you over."

"So you said." Obviously Tara knew a change of subject when she saw one, but she figured it was better to let it lie. Olivia was stubborn, and if she dug her heels in things might never get fixed. And if Tara didn't know anything else, she knew Olivia and Juice belonged together.

"What's up?" she said, sitting up a little straighter.

"Apparently John Patric is having a party next week. And I'm invited."

"Wait. What?"

"Yeah, that was kinda my reaction. He said Katie wanted him to invite me."

"Wait. _What_?"

Olivia laughed. "Kind of weird, right? He said you guys could come to, if you wanted. I guess he's inviting everyone—except TJ."

Tara let out a low whistle. "Well, well."

"Yeah. TJ's gonna be pissed."

"Are you gonna go?"

"I thought I might," she said with a shrug. "You think you can get Jax to go? And Opie and Donna?"

"But not Juice? That's kinda shitty."

"Oh, no, I mean. Juice can come if he wants. I just didn't know if he would."

Tara studied her a moment. Then, "You aren't worried it's gonna be some weird…I don't know…"

"Pig's blood situation?"

She held up her hands in a shrug. "Yeah, maybe."

"It could be, I guess. I don't know. I kind of don't care. Like, honestly. After everything else a bucket of pig's blood might actually be an improvement."

"Ollie, ew. That's disgusting."

"A little bit," she said, unconcerned. "But you get voted Blowjob Queen and see how much you care after that."

"Good point," Tara said. "So you want us to come too? I feel kinda weird letting you go in alone."

"It's not enemy territory, Tara."

"Um. It kinda is."

Olivia scowled. "Yeah, I guess it kinda is. If you can talk Jackson Teller into going to a party at John Patric's house, then far be it for me to say no. I bow before you."

She gave a smug grin. "These days Jax is pretty easy to talk into nearly anything."

"You're welcome," Olivia said with a laugh.

Tara shifted on the bed and leafed through the magazine again. Put it aside and fixed Olivia with a long look. "So did you and Juice ever…?"

"Nope. Not technically."

"Huh. But he…?"

"Had no real cause for complaint. Why? You hear different?"

"Nope," Tara said. "I was just curious." She paused. "He hasn't said anything, as far as I know. I mean, Jax would tell me, I think, and he hasn't."

"He's not really the type of person to kiss and tell."

"You can't let him go, Ollie. He's good for you. You know that, right?"

She bit her lip and looked away. "Yeah," she finally said. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

Tara had to drag him, but Juice went to the party. Tara wasn't stupid: she'd recruited Donna to the cause, and Donna had gotten Opie to agree to go. After that Jax was a shoo-in, and Juice really didn't have an excuse. His mom practically pushed him out the door when he mentioned it, so with a scowl and some muttered curses, he relented.

He didn't get there until nearly ten, but the party was in full swing. Someone filled a cup for him from the keg and he wandered through room after room, all packed full of kids. He knew some of them, but there must have been people from other schools there because a lot of the faces were unfamiliar.

He saw Dana across the room and they shared a nod. She was talking to Katie Adams, and when Katie saw him she immediately broke off and worked her way toward him. Juice thought about bolting. It was crowded; she'd never know he was specifically avoiding her. And if she did know, who cared, really?

Finally she was at his side, and he had to admit she looked pretty. Her blonde hair was down around her shoulders and she was wearing some sort of shiny pink lipgloss. Not at all like Olivia, but wasn't that sort of the point?

"Hi, lover," she purred, her bubblegum mouth nearly against his ear.

He shifted away, his eyes scanning the room. "Nothing happened, Katie," he muttered. "Don't call me that."

"Nothing's happened _yet_, but if you play your cards right that could change."

He wasn't interested in her. At all. But she'd been throwing herself at him from practically the moment it started to get around school that he and Olivia had broken up. He missed Olivia like a fucking _limb_, and Katie was pretty and mean and shallow. Basically everything Olivia wasn't (except the pretty part, of course, but they looked way different), so he'd taken her out. Once. And she'd stuck her tongue down his throat and it hadn't done a single thing for him. He hadn't seen her since.

Now she had her arms around him and her body draped against his, but he wasn't really paying attention. Then she kissed his neck, and he looked down at her with a frown. "Katie, I'm not really—"

She kissed him, sticking her tongue down his throat again, and he jerked away.

And of course. Of fucking _course_. That's when he saw her.

She stood nearby, definitely within Katie's line of sight, and she had a cup in her hand. Her hair was a fiery tumble down her back and she had on a short skirt that showed off miles of leg. She crossed her arms over her chest and a slow, sardonic smirk unfurled across her face. She tipped her cup—whether to him or to Katie, he couldn't tell—in an ironic sort of salute, and then she turned away and was swallowed up by the crowd.

* * *

_Well_, she thought. She hadn't been looking for him. Not really. She'd gotten a beer and started to wander, but in the way of things between them, she'd somehow found him. Fast. And when she saw him her stomach did that flippy thing and her heart constricted and she knew Tara had been right. She had to have him back. She had to do whatever it took, and worrying about her pride was stupid and pointless.

The surging crowd closed around her and she cursed. He was gone, cut off from her line of sight, and she hated being so fucking short. The one good thing…she pushed and shoved and snuck her way through until she hit a clear spot. Looked back to where she'd seen him and went still.

Katie Adams was draped all over him, an arm around his neck and her body pressed full-length against his. As Olivia watched, Katie pressed her lips to his neck. It seemed to startle him, and when he turned toward her she kissed him. Not a small, tentative peck, but a huge, tongue-filled smooch. Familiar, Olivia thought. Not the first time.

He didn't…he didn't look exactly _happy_ about it, though. More alarmed. And maybe annoyed?

He saw her, and for a moment she didn't know how to react. Then her mask snapped into place. A smile curved her mouth and she saluted him with her drink. He worked fast, she had to give him that. She spun on her heel and worked her way back through until she was at the kegs again.

Her cup was still half full, but it would give her something to do. And the guy manning the keg had seemed okay, laughing and joking with her and keeping his eyes (mostly) off her tits.

"Back already?" he said when he saw her.

She grinned. "Couldn't stay away. Just top me off," she said and held out her cup.

"Sure thing. Hey, you go to South, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"No way I wouldn't've seen a girl as cute as you at North. What's your name?"

She couldn't help but blush a little. He was tall, blue eyes and dimples, and while his smile wasn't Juice Ortiz caliber (whose was?), it was nice enough. "Olivia," she said. "Most people call me _Ollie_."

"That's so fuckin' cute!" he said, laughing. He waved somebody over. "Dude, look. This's Olivia, but call her _Ollie_."

She turned to greet the newcomer and he grinned down at her. "You go to South?" he said. "I'm Rob."

"Yeah," she said. "South. You guys are at North?"

"Yup," Rob said. "Too bad." He eyed her up and down. "Scenery at South's fuckin' _nice_."

Her brow furrowed a little. Yeah. Time to make her exit. "Thanks for the refill," she said to the first guy. She hadn't caught his name, but it didn't really matter.

Rob put a hand on the small of her back, gentle and easy. "Don't run off so fast. We should chat. If you want to."

"Um." She sipped her drink to give herself something to do. It had suddenly gotten sort of warm, and she thought maybe she shouldn't've gone for that refill after all. But that was stupid. She'd had half a fucking beer. She looked up at Rob and smiled, the dimple in her chin winking. "Yeah, sure. Kind of loud in here, though."

"Let's go out by the pool. Music's quieter out there."

She nodded, and the brief spike of alarm she felt when his hand tightened against her back faded quickly. It hadn't been that strong anyway. More kind of of pang than a spike. Was she getting a migraine? The lights seemed bright and kind of fuzzy, and that happened sometimes before…

Rob was saying something, but she'd lost the thread at some point. "Huh?"

"Oh, just said we could go upstairs instead. If you'd rather do that. It might be cold outside."

Her face twisted. That didn't seem right. Why would she want to go upstairs?

"Come on," he said, steering her that way. "That's a better idea."

She managed a vague sort of nod, but she wasn't really sure about the whole thing. She didn't know this guy. What was his name again? She was about to say something, pull away and maybe try to find Tara for a ride home (she really didn't feel great all of a sudden), when she nearly smacked into Juice.

* * *

"Fuck," he muttered. He took Katie by the shoulders and pushed her away, gently but firmly. "I'm not interested, Katie. Okay? I'm sorry if I misled you, but I'm not."

"Don't be silly, Juice. You know I'll put out too. And I'm not a mega-slut like her," Katie said, pouting.

He shook his head. "Whatever. Not sure I can make myself any clearer." He broke away and plunged into the crowd after Olivia, but who was he kidding? This place was huge, and packed, and she was small.

Except from day one he'd had some sort of weird sixth sense about her, like he always knew where she was or what she was doing when they were in any kind of vicinity of each other. He felt it now, like a tingle against the back of his neck, and he stopped to look around.

He finally saw her near one of the kegs. A guy he didn't know was refilling her drink and getting an eyeful of her tits in the snug t-shirt she wore. She was smiling at him, laughing at something he said, and he pointed behind her. She turned her head and another guy walked up. He rested a hand on the small of her back and whispered something in her ear, and even though she laughed Juice could tell she was uncomfortable. Even from across the room he recognized the tightness around her eyes and the firm set to her mouth.

The second guy started to herd her away from the keg, his hand now less _resting_ and more _grabbing_. Juice glowered and pushed his way through the press. The guy was big; she was small; and Juice knew her well enough to tell she didn't like his hand on her. He broke through and stopped short as he nearly collided with her.

"Oh!" she gasped, startled. Her eyes widened a little and darted from him to the guy and back again.

"What the fuck, man?" the guy said. "You almost made me spill my beer."

Juice ignored him. His gaze was trained on Olivia's face, on her flushed cheeks and lush mouth, but for once not in any sort of lustful way.

"What's your problem?" he said. "Get outta the way, man. My girl and me have a date."

Her head pivoted toward him, slowly, and her nose scrunched. "We do?" she said.

"Yeah, baby," he said with a leer. "Remember?" He started to pull her away and she stumbled.

Juice's eyes narrowed in fury. He crowded close, up in the guy's face, and glared. "What did you do to her, asshole?"

"Do? Come on. Don't you know who this is? Olivia fucking Gable. She's _always_ beggin' for it!"

"What?" Olivia said. Her voice sounded sort of fuzzy, unfocused, and Juice felt another surge of fury.

"Babe," he said, keeping his voice quiet, "maybe come with me instead? You even know this guy's name?"

She frowned. "S'nothing, Juicy. Just gonna talk, that's all. And _you_ were kissing Katie Adams!"

"You heard the lady." The guy threw an arm over her shoulders. "Just gonna talk."

Juice shoved his shoulder. "Get your hands off her, dickwad. Liv, how much have you had to drink?"

She stared at her cup like she wasn't sure what it was. "One. Half, maybe. Juice…feel weird."

"What did you give her? How much? Look at her. She can barely stand up."

She was weaving on her feet, swaying and leaning against her "date." People had started to take notice now, and a murmur spread through the crowd.

The guy glowered. "Nothin', man. Just a little something to help her relax."

"What?" Even in her dazed state that got through. She pushed away from him and almost fell, and when he went to grab her Juice knocked him away.

"I told you to get your hands off her. I wasn't fucking kidding."

"Do you know who I am?" the guy scoffed.

"Yeah, buddy. You're a loser asshole who's gotta drug girls to have a chance. You ever touch her again I will fuck you up. Got it?"

"And who the fuck are _you_, shit head?"

Suddenly the guy's buddy, the one from the keg, appeared behind him. He muttered something in the guy's ear and his face changed. He let go of Olivia and took a step back.

"Shit, man. Didn't know she was your girl. Sorry."

Juice gave him a look of pure disgust and wrapped a protective arm around her. "Fuck you. You knew her and didn't know her friends?"

He held up both hands and backed away. "We didn't mean anything. It was just a joke."

"Yeah. I'm sure her buddies in SAMCRO'll be super sympathetic."

Olivia giggled. "Chibs thinks I'm cute."

"Everybody thinks you're cute, babe," Juice said, quietly. "Let's get you outta here." He shot one last glare at the two guys and led her away. The crowd parted to let them through, and even though he looked he didn't see Jax or Opie anywhere. Tara or Donna, either, but honestly Opie was the one he was most likely to spot.

She stumbled along, her expression confused, and he realize there's no way he could get her home on his bike. She'd probably forget to hold on or something.

"You bring the truck?" he said.

"You kissed Katie Adams."

"We'll talk about that. I promise. Where are your keys, Olivia?"

"Um." She fished in her jacket pocket, but she felt like she was wearing mittens. "Um, don't know."

The old blue truck stood out among the sleek Mercedes and bulky SUVs, and once he got them there he propped her against it and searched her pockets.

"Gettin' fresh, Ortiz?"

He cupped her face in his hand and made sure her eyes were on his before he spoke. "No, Liv. You hear me? No way."

"So _serious_," she said and giggled.

He got the truck unlocked and lifted her into it. Buckled her seatbelt and hurried around to the other side. He had to pause a moment, his hands on the wheel, to let his desire to go back in and kick that guy's ass all over the fucking party dissipate. Jesus Christ what if he hadn't gone looking for her? What if he hadn't found her and that motherfucker had gotten her alone?

He scraped a shaking hand down his face. Seemed like he and his buddy had been in on it together. With her drugged and passed out…

He couldn't think about that. Couldn't let it enter his brain or he'd fucking kill that guy. Kill both of them. Kill any asshole who even looked at her.

"Where're we goin', Juicy?" she murmured.

"Home, sweetheart. I'm gonna take you home."

"'Kay. Come inside?"

Nodding, he started the engine. Backed carefully out of the tight parking spot and headed toward her house. Her hand was on the seat between them, palm up, fingers curled. He reached for it, lacing his fingers through hers, and at the contact she stirred.

"Feel really weird," she said.

"I know, baby. It's okay. Nothing bad's gonna happen to you."

"I know. I'm with you." A brief paused. Then, "I love you."

He grimaced. "Pretty sure that's just the drugs talkin'."

"Yeah," she said after a moment, but she sounded sad. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

* * *

_This isn't exactly what I meant to happen, so I guess we'll see where it goes from here. :)_


	29. Over Me

I really really struggled with this chapter for some reason and I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you! (forgive me?)

* * *

**under you i feel your blood flowing out slowly**  
**under you let go completely feeling you take over me**  
**take over me**  
Better Than Ezra, "Under You"

He got her inside and to her bedroom. Helped her with her boots and hesitated, but ultimately put her to bed fully dressed. He pulled the covers up and she smiled at him. Curled her fingers into his shirt and tugged him down to her.

"Don't leave," she said.

He frowned. Maybe he shouldn't. He had no idea what or how much she'd been given, and with her size.…If he left her alone and something happened he'd never forgive himself. He could hang out until her dad got home and then tell him what had happened, and he could look out for her the rest of the night.

He took off his boots and crawled in next to her, on top of the blankets. She turned toward him, snuggling close, and made a frustrated noise at the barrier between them.

"You don't want me, Juicy?"

"Liv, babe, you're not yourself. You know I always want you." He slid an arm beneath her and gathered her against him. Her forehead rested against the curve of his shoulder and he shivered at the feel of her breath on his skin.

"Sleepy."

"It's okay. Go to sleep. I've got you."

"'Kay." Her breathing deepened and he thought she'd fallen asleep when she stirred again. "Love you, Juicy. Sorry. Come back. Please come back."

Tears filled his eyes and his head fell forward. He'd only been waiting to hear her say it for two and a half weeks, and now when she finally did she was under the influence of some date rape drug. The worst part was he knew she meant it. But she wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, and what could he say to her then?

_So last night after those fuckers drugged you at the party…_

No. He'd just have to keep waiting. If she could say it once while drugged out of her gourd maybe she'd eventually get around to saying it sober. He just had to make sure there were no repeats of the Katie Adams incident. It wasn't worth it. Not just because he didn't really like Katie, but also because there was no other girl for him besides Olivia. She was who he wanted, period, and if meant waiting her out, fine.

Tara was obviously on his side, so that helped. Olivia would come around eventually. She'd taught him to be patient, ironically enough, and he thought he could apply that lesson to this too.

He laced his fingers in her hair and stroked it back from her face. She was asleep now, and a tiny line had formed between her brows. He kissed it; it smoothed and a little smile replaced it.

"I love you, Olivia," he said. "I can wait."

He must've fallen asleep too, because the next thing he knew he jolted awake, terrified by the sound of a low, angry rumbling. He sat up fast, and Olivia rolled away with a murmured protest. Juice scraped a hand down his face and blinked.

James Gable stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Juice hadn't closed the door, and he'd thought he would hear the Cougar in time to move safely to the desk chair. Instead James had caught Juice in bed with his daughter…but fully clothed, at least, and on top of the covers while she was under them.

"I can explain!" Juice said, lifting his hands.

"That would be a good idea," James said. He jerked his head toward the kitchen and Juice fell in step behind him. Sat down at the table while James got a beer from the fridge, opened it, and took a long pull. "So?" he finally said. "Explain."

Juice cleared his throat. "Okay, first of all, nothing happened. At all. I mean…" He made a gesture to indicate his clothes.

There was a brief, sharp silence. Then, "I thought you two broke up."

"We did."

James didn't say anything, just watched him with stern blue eyes. Juice squirmed. Geez. Maybe having a dad wasn't so great after all.

"Did she tell you about the party tonight?"

"Yep. At John Patric's house. I was a little surprised she wanted to go."

"Yeah. Not really her crowd." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Somebody drugged her."

He pushed away from the counter all in a rush. "What? _Drugged_ her? What the fuck happened?"

"I don't know, exactly. She was talkin' to these guys, and she had a…" His face twisted. He thought maybe her having a beer at a party was a lesser consideration at this point. "She had a beer. She told me she'd drunk maybe half of it. Anyway, one of the guys was just acting kinda…too friendly. He was taking her upstairs when I stopped them, and she was out of it. Like, stumbling around and slurring and acting really confused."

"After half a beer? And you're sure that's all she had?"

He hitched a shoulder. "No. We weren't together or anything. But, I mean…she doesn't drink. Maybe a little bit sometimes like when she's hanging out with us, Jax and Tara and everybody, but I don't think she'd ever get drunk at a party. Especially not a party like that, at John Patric's house."

"Jesus," he said. He rubbed his face and set his bottle aside. "But you stopped it, right? Got her out of there before anything happened?"

"Yeah. Totally. I got her away from that asshole and brought her home. I thought I should stay with her in case…I don't know. I didn't know how much they'd given her, and she's pretty small. Somethin' like GHB is real strong, you know? Would be easy for her to OD."

He shifted in his chair and looked away. "I guess I fell asleep. But nothing happened, I swear. I'd never do that to her. All I did was take her shoes off and put her in bed. That's it."

James held up a hand. "I believe you, Juice." He stumbled to the table and dropped in a chair, shaking his head like someone had just hit him really, really hard.

"Jesus," he said again. "You try to do everything you can. Try to protect her and…teach her right. You do everything you can, but at some point you gotta let her go to a goddamn party, right? Then something like this happens? If you hadn't been there…"

"Trust me, I know," Juice said, grimly.

"You know the guys who did this?" James said, his stunned gaze sharpening.

"Nah. Don't think they go to South. I can try to find out, though."

"Good. Do that." He paused. "Tell me their names, and then quietly, without her finding out, tell your friends at TM." He met Juice's eyes, and his were hard and cold, like ice. "Do you understand?"

He hesitated. "You know what they'll do to them, right?"

James nodded once, down and up again. "I'm counting on it. I don't much like my daughter hanging around a biker gang all day, but if she's going to do it she might as well get something out of it."

"The second they connected her to Jax and Opie they backed off."

"Good," he repeated. "That's good. Now I want to make sure they regret ever putting their hands on my little girl." He studied Juice a moment. "She was happy with you, Juice. As happy as I've seen her since her mom died. I know she overstepped, telling Gemma about your mother—just like I'm overstepping right now, but I guess it runs in the family—but she meant well. Any chance you could forgive her?"

Juice smiled, small and sad. "Mr. Gable, I forgave her practically the minute it happened. I mean, yeah, I was kinda pissed, but I just needed a little time to get it sorted out in my head. She's the one who told me to stay away."

His head fell back and he let out a strained laugh. "Of course she is. Well. I'm sorry about that, Juice. If I could do anything to help I would, but you know how she is. I can tell you she misses you."

"I guess that's good to know."

James' eyes flicked to the clock on the wall and he frowned. "I saw the truck in the driveway. I'm guessing you left your bike at the Patrics'."

"Yeah. Didn't really seem safe trying to get her home on the back of a motorcycle."

"Come on," he said, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll give you a ride home. We'll swing by there and load your bike into the truck. I've got a ramp thing we can use."

"Sure," Juice said. He stood up and tucked his hands in his pockets with an embarrassed smile. "Thanks, Mr. Gable. For being cool, I mean."

"Cool about finding you in bed with my daughter, you mean?"

"Um. Yeah. That's what I meant."

He gave a heavy sigh, and his expression was grave. "I know you're not the type of person to take advantage of a situation like that. Yes, it helps that you're both fully clothed and you were outside the blankets, but…" He lifted his hands in a shrug. "I trust you with my daughter. Do you understand what that means? I trusted TJ with her and I was about as wrong as I could possibly be."

He grabbed Juice's shoulder and squeezed. "Don't let me down. More importantly, don't let _her_ down."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Gable. I just know I don't ever wanna hurt her."

"That's a good first step," he said. "And please, Juice. Call me _James_."

* * *

The next morning when Olivia pulled in, Juice's bike was in its usual parking spot in his complex' lot, but Ms. Ortiz' car was missing. She must be at work. Or maybe chemo. Olivia hopped out of the truck and smoothed a hand down her leg. She was nervous. She had so much more to say to him than _thank you_, and she could only hope he took it well.

There was a long silence after she knocked on the door, and she began to wonder if maybe he and his mom had gone somewhere together. Then it opened, abruptly, and his greeting died on his lips as he blinked down at her.

Color flooded her face. He was wearing his usual cargo pants, but he hadn't bothered to put on a shirt. His hair stuck up around his head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Did I wake you?" It was a little after eleven, but if he'd stayed at her house until her dad got home, he hadn't gotten back until late.

"Yeah, but it's okay. Uh. Come in." He stepped back, then closed the door behind her. He stood a moment, seemingly at a loss, until he finally said, "Have a seat. I'll be right back."

He disappeared down the little hallway and a few seconds later she heard water running in the bathroom. She didn't sit. There were pictures on the wall, Juice's class pictures going back to preschool. She couldn't help but smile: he was adorable. An adorable toddler. An adorable little boy. An adorable, gawky middle schooler.

A noise behind her, and she turned toward it. He hovered awkwardly in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets. He'd combed his hair and put on a shirt. They watched each other, both wary, neither sure how to proceed. Finally Juice smiled a little.

"How're you feeling?"

"Oh," she said. "Not too bad. Woke up with a pretty nasty hangover, but my dad made me breakfast and I took some aspirin. A shower helped a lot, too."

He nodded. Shifted his weight a little and let his eyes travel the room. "Can I get you something? Like a drink or anything?"

"No," she said, a smile touching her mouth. She took a step toward him and he eyed her uncertainly. She hesitated. A fist clamped around her stomach and she swallowed hard. "Juice, about last night—my dad told me what happened."

His brow quirked. "If you came by to thank me or something, don't worry about it. Jax or Opie or anybody would've done the same thing. I couldn't let that guy—" He broke off with a glower. "I could tell you weren't yourself is all."

"You didn't have to stay with me."

"Of course I did. You know how easy it is to OD on GHB? If that's what they gave you. If I'd left you alone and something'd happened I never would've forgiven myself."

After a moment she nodded. Her eyes searched his face for some sign—some _hint_—that he wanted her to be here more than just to thank him. But his expression was open and affable, and he didn't seem at all stressed or upset. And he still hadn't really stepped into the room.

"Juice," she said, her voice quiet, "please come here."

Frowning, he shuffled closer. A few feet. Still too far. Maybe he was right, though. Maybe it was her turn to go to him.

So she did. Three long strides and she had her fingers curled in his t-shirt. "I'm sorry, Juice. I love you. Please come back."

He stared down at her, his dark eyes wide, and after a moment he raised a hand to cup her face. Tentative at first, but then with more confidence when she leaned into the touch. "You said that last night."

"Did I?"

"Yeah. I thought maybe it was just the drugs."

"I'm not on drugs right now."

"I know it. Olivia—"

"I know you and Katie kissed last night. I remember that part. I don't care. It doesn't matter." She paused and her face scrunched. "Unless you actually like her, and then I guess it does, but I don't think you do because—"

He interrupted the stream of chatter with a kiss, firm and warm and just a bit rough. "I don't like Katie Adams. At all."

"Really?"

"Of course really. C'mon, Liv. You know that. You know you're the only girl for me. You know I love you."

"Really? she repeated, a bare whisper.

He dipped his head to kiss her again. "Yes, really."

Her arms went around him and she pressed close, up on her tiptoes so that she could hug him as tight as she could. "Say it again, Juicy. Please."

"I love you," he murmured into her hair. He brushed his nose over it and took a deep breath. The scent was the same. The feel of her. His hands traced the lines of her back, and when she finally eased away it was too soon. There were tears on her cheeks, and he kissed them away.

"I'm so sorry, Juice. I shouldn't've gone behind your back like that and I never should've told you to stay away from me. This has been the longest few weeks ever. I've missed you so much."

"You don't gotta apologize, Livvie." He couldn't stop kissing her: her forehead; nose; cheeks; mouth. "Don't gotta say you're sorry. Just tell me you're back. Tell me you're mine and you're not gonna go anywhere again."

"I am. I'm not. I'm here as long as you'll have me."

"Forever," he murmured as his mouth closed over hers.

Her lips parted and their tongues rubbed and he felt like he couldn't get her close enough. Her fingers were in his hair, and she tugged it until his head fell back with a groan. She kissed a line down his throat, teeth scraping and lips nipping.

"Bedroom?" she murmured against his skin.

"What—it's—huh?"

She grinned and poked him in the stomach. "Where's your bedroom, Ortiz?"

"Oh. It's…it's down here." He laced his fingers through hers and led her down the hall. He pushed open the last door and paused a moment, almost embarrassed. "Um. This's it."

It was incredibly neat, maybe the neatest sixteen-year-old boy's room she'd ever seen—not that she'd seen many, but neither Opie nor Jax kept their rooms like this. There was a poster of a motorcycle on one wall, and a Metallica poster on another. A desk jammed in the corner, and the only things on it were a cup full of pencils and pens, and a picture. She grinned when she saw it, and she was surprised he'd kept it out after they broke up.

"I remember this," she said. "At the beach."

"Yeah. That was a good day."

"It was," she said. She turned to him, still smiling, and he shut the door. "Where's your mom?"

"Work," he said. "Won't be back till after five."

She bit her lip. "It's not even noon."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

He'd been drifting closer as they talked, and now they were nearly touching. He grinned down at her. "It's fine. I'm glad you did. I mean…I'm glad you didn't wait until later to come over."

"I basically came as soon as…I ate breakfast, took a shower, and headed this way. I really wanted to talk to you."

He brushed the heel of his hand along her jaw. "I'm glad."

"Me too," she said. She felt suddenly shy, as though he hadn't seen her naked before. And that was why she'd suggested they come back here, wasn't it? To get him naked? Now suddenly she wasn't sure.

"It's okay, Liv. We don't have to do anything."

"No," she said. "No, I want to."

He tilted her chin and kissed her. "We can just hang out. Or, I don't know. Take a nap."

She laughed. "Take a nap?"

"What? I was out late last night."

"Ohh, I get it. You're tired. Okay, sure. Nap it is."

"Well, no, I mean, it was just an idea. We can do—whatever."

He had a twin bed, and the idea of a nap snuggled so close to him was appealing. "Maybe nap after," she said with a wicked curve to her mouth.

"After…?"

She stepped into him and slid her arms around his neck. "Do you have any condoms?"

He swallowed hard and nodded as his hands drifted to her waist. "Yeah, babe," he said. "I hide 'em in a shoebox in my closet."

"Wouldn't want your mom to know her baby boy believes in safe sex, huh?"

"Better to preserve some illusions, right?"

She kissed the corner of his jaw and walked away to perch on the edge of the bed. "Maybe you should grab a handful."

"Uh. Yeah. Don't—don't move." He ducked into the closet and dug around for a minute, and when he turned back she'd taken off her shirt. For some reason it felt like the first time all over again, like he'd never seen her bra before, and for a moment he was speechless.

She blushed and looked away. "What?" she said.

"Nothing. Nothing. I just forgot…I guess I forgot how gorgeous you are."

Her blush deepened. He stepped closer, and after a moment he trailed the back of his hand down her chest, over the curve of her breast. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and he grinned. He sat down next to her and she pulled a leg up so that she could twist to face him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," she murmured.

He carded a hand in her hair and brushed his mouth over hers. She ran her fingers up under his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Leaned down to kiss his chest, trailing her lips down his sternum and flicking her tongue over his nipple.

He pulled her up again and held her face in his hands while they kissed. He tasted like mint, she thought. He must've brushed his teeth when he went to put his shirt on. That was cute. Really super cute. She sucked on his lip and ran her tongue over his teeth while his hands tightened in her hair.

She scooted backwards, toward the head of the bed, and he followed her. Tossed the box of condoms on the nightstand and pulled her down against him as he stretched out. She draped herself over him, his leg between hers, and then they were kissing again, lips and teeth and tongues and hot breath.

He unclasped her bra so she could wiggle out of it, and when she pressed against him it was skin on skin. They rolled over and his palm found her breast; she gasped against his mouth when he caught her nipple between his knuckles. He pinched it a little. Rolled it and tugged.

"You like that, Livvie?" he said.

When she nodded he grinned and moved down to capture the other one with his lips. He nipped and sucked; lathed his tongue over it and then switched. She moaned beneath him and curled her fingers in his hair. He loved the feel of her nipples as they swelled in his mouth, and when he pulled away he smirked at the sight of them, big and rosy. Sexy as hell.

The expression on his face made her laugh, and she ran a thumb over his lips. "Are you gloating, Ortiz?" she said.

"Maybe a little."

"What did I tell you about that?"

He gave an unrepentant shrug. "Whoops," he said. She giggled as he bent to circle his tongue around her bellybutton. His hand hit the button on her jeans, and she nodded when he cast her a questioning look.

"Don't stop," she said.

He slid them down her legs, slowly, caressing her skin as he went, then kissed his way back up. He lavished attention on her scars, licking and kissing and sucking, mumbling endearments against her skin, until she was flushed and panting.

"You're so beautiful, Livvie. Love you so much. Wanna kiss you forever."

She sighed and pulled him toward her by the hair. "Come here, baby," she whispered.

His eyes crinkled a bit as he grinned, and he took his time about it. Long, lingering kisses and soft, teasing licks across her belly. Along her ribs. Over her breasts. When he finally got to her mouth she captured his face in her hands and traced the shape of his lips with the tip of her tongue.

"You want me, Juicy?"

He let out a stuttering sort of laugh. "Are you kidding? Don't think I've ever wanted anything so bad in my life."

Her brow furrowed. "But it's been good, hasn't it? I know we haven't—but we've done other things, and I thought—"

"Babe." He kissed her. "It's been _crazy_ good. I'm an asshole, okay? That shit I said when we were fighting was bullshit."

"I don't know. Sometimes when we're mad or upset we say the things we mean most."

"Like that you love me?"

A warm, soft smile. "Yeah, like that."

He paused. Traced a constellation in the freckles on her chest and pressed a kiss to her skin. "I guess maybe sometimes I get frustrated. Not with the sex thing. That's all…I told you before I wasn't ready, and I meant it. So it's been great."

She played with his hair and waited him out.

"It's hard not knowing what you want. And what you want seems to change every week. I know sometimes you don't have it figured out, and so I try to keep that in mind and just go with it, but sometimes I feel like I need a magic decoder ring or something."

Her brow quirked. "I think that might just be the human condition, love."

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know."

She used a finger under his chin to raise his head so that their eyes met. "Juice, listen. Thank you for putting up with my bullshit. Thank you for having patience with me. Here's what I want: you. I want to be your girlfriend. I want the world to know it. I want to hold hands in the hall and make out in my dad's truck and have picnics that sometimes end in sex and sometimes don't. I love you. I want you."

She leaned forward to kiss him, and when she fell back again she was smiling at him. "That clear enough for you?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning, "except…"

"Except what?" she said with a laugh.

"When you say _end in sex_, do you mean…?"

"I don't know. I mean whatever we want it to mean. Right now, though? Right now I mean sex. You, inside me. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he said on a breath.

"Unless you're still not ready, because if you're not—"

"No!" He flushed and his smile turned sheepish. "No, I'm ready."

"Oh good," she said, her tone teasing. She hooked her finger in the waistband of his pants and tugged a little. "You should probably get rid of these."

He reached for his zipper, but she stopped him and did it herself. He wiggled out of his pants and shorts, and when he stretched out on top of her again he was naked, his cock hot and hard between her thighs.

"Baby," she whispered.

She kissed his face and traced every familiar line of it with her fingertips. He smiled and trailed his mouth along the line of her jaw. His hand drifted lower, between her legs to cup her through her panties. She wiggled, and his fingers slipped under the edge of the fabric to brush against her lips. She was wet, dripping and slippery, and he drew in a sharp breath.

"Take these off me, Juicy," she said, almost a whimper, and a few seconds later they were gone, down to her ankles and kicked away.

He let the very tip of his finger slide across her clit, and at the noise she made his grin deepened. He moved down her body again, this time his mouth rougher as he kissed and nipped at her soft skin. Little red marks bloomed in his wake, and when he paused a moment to lick one she squirmed.

"Don't stop, baby, please!"

"It's good?" he said, his voice husky. "This's good?"

She laughed, breathlessly. "Yeah, babe. It's perfect."

He made a low noise, almost a growl, and bit the inside of her thigh. She moaned when he sucked, then louder as he increased the pressure. When he pulled away there was a dark red mark, and he grinned as he kissed it.

"Not where anyone can see," he said.

She giggled. "God I hope not."

He brushed his nose along her slit and kissed her labia. "You want me to lick your pussy, baby?" he rasped.

Her head fell back against the pillow and she panted softly. "Yes, Juicy. Please?"

He let his tongue slide along the same path before he dipped it between her lips to flick the tip across her clit. He cut his eyes up to watch her face as he circled it, barely touching, and as color flooded her cheeks he spread her open and lashed his tongue against her.

"Oh God!" she moaned, her hips lifting off the bed.

He lapped up and down, over her clit and down to wiggle inside. Captured her clit between his lips and sucked, brushing his tongue back and forth across it. He scraped it, just barely, with his teeth and she let out a high, whimpering keen.

"Fuck!" she said on a gasp. "That's so good, baby, so damn good—!"

His nose bumped over the sensitive nub as he swirled his tongue inside her. Lathed it against her G-spot until she was breathless and trembling. The noises changed, became shorter and more desperate, and he pulled away with a grin.

She let out a groan of frustration. "Juan Carlos!"

"Sorry, baby," he murmured as he kissed her. "You're not coming today until I'm inside you."

She moaned and fisted a hand in his hair. She could taste herself on his mouth, mingling with the mint, and she licked his lips and chin clean. He gasped her name and her fingers closed around his throbbing cock.

"Get me one of those condoms, love," she said, nibbling his lips.

He fumbled blindly at the nightstand behind him until he hit the box. Somehow he managed to get his fingers around one of the little packets, and she grinned when he handed it to her. She hadn't let go of him, and the slow stroke of her hand around his aching erection was almost more than he could stand.

"Tell me, baby," she said and ripped the package open. "When was the last time you came?"

He blinked at her, befuddled. "Uh…Monday, I guess? Ran into you at work. Remember?"

"I do remember." She rolled the condom up his shaft and he gave a soft moan. "Why then?"

"Dunno," he said. "No, not true. You and Tara'd been out that day, and when you got there you were wearing that skirt. The black skirt. From the camping trip."

"Ohh." She laughed. "I didn't even think about that."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I promise." Her head tilted. "Now if it _had_ occurred to me, I'm pretty sure I still would've it."

"You're mean, Livvie," he breathed.

"Am I?" She squeezed him and he groaned.

"Uh huh." His eyes closed and his head fell back. "Fuck, baby, want you so goddamn bad!"

"Mmmm, Juan Carlos, that's what I like to hear."

She slowly eased her fingers off his cock, and after taking a moment to catch his breath, he moved over her. He kept his weight on his elbows and dipped his chin to kiss her: mouth, jaw, cheeks, closed eyelids.

"Love you so much, Livvie," he whispered into her ear. He brushed his nose against the soft skin of her neck, and she sighed, sexy and sweet.

"I love you too, Juicy. Please, sweetheart."

He grasped his cock in one hand and rubbed the tip over her clit. "What, baby? This what you want?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "You know I do."

He let out a hard groan and slid into her, just the head, and paused to watch her face. She smiled up at him, her eyes warm, and he grinned. He plunged in the rest of the way, to the hilt, and her body arched into him.

"Good?" he gasped.

"Yeah, baby. Yeah. So good!"

"Not gonna make me quit this time?" he said with a panting laugh.

"Don't you dare quit. Don't you dare." She drew her legs up to wrap around his thighs, and at the increased pressure against her clit she groaned. "Might have to kill you if you stopped now."

He grimaced. "Good thing I wasn't plannin' to stop, then."

She giggled and kissed his nose. "Move, Ortiz. Please!"

He did as she begged, slowly rocking into her, pressing deep and grinding his hips to work her clit against her pubic bone. Their tongues brushed as he kissed her, and he swallowed her moans and whimpers with an eager noise of his own.

"You feel so good, baby," he said. "So hot and wet. Goddamn didn't know anything could feel so fucking _good_!"

Her fingers tangled in his hair and her hips moved with him. "Juicy, oh God, yes please yes that's it that's perfect don't stop!"

He'd gotten her right to the edge with his mouth, and now the feel of him big and hard inside her, and the way he moved against her clit, had her there again. She bit his earlobe. The side of his neck. The curve of his shoulder.

He knew her face better than he knew his own, and he recognized that particular lush softness to her mouth. "Come for me, Livvie. Come with me inside you. Come all around my cock, baby."

"Oh God," she whimpered. "Yes Juicy fuck yes oh God!"

It hit hard, an electric rush that sizzled through her. She jerked against him, crying out his name and half-incoherent pleas, and he dropped kisses over her face and down the smooth line of her throat.

"That's it, Livvie, fuck that's so sexy. Love makin' you come, baby, love the way you say my name."

"Fuck, Juicy," she breathed. "Jesus." She pulled her legs higher, around his waist, and his forehead dropped to her shoulder. She ran her fingers down the back of his neck and kissed his temple. "Okay, baby?"

He managed a brief laugh. "Uh huh. Just tryin'…don't wanna come yet. But God you feel good."

She nibbled the curve of his ear. "I bet you could make me come again."

He lifted his head, grinning. "Oh yeah?"

She shifted beneath him and he hissed. She wiggled a little, drawing her legs down his body and pressing them together between his. His eyes widened at the change in sensation: her lips were snug around his cock, and she gasped when he rocked into her.

"You like that?" he mumbled, his mouth hot against her neck. "That feel good?"

"Yes, baby. Yeah fuck don't stop!"

He couldn't thrust, but he didn't care. The feel of her, hot and wet and tight, was better than anything ever, even her mouth, and the sexy little noises she made and the sight of her face…

Her nails tightened against his scalp and she braced her other hand against the wall above her head. Her lips were incredibly sensitive, and he hit her clit every time he moved.

"Oh God," she gasped, high and breathless. "Oh God, Juicy, oh my God that's…" She trailed off into wordless whimpers, and he bit his lip hard.

"So goddamn sexy, Livvie." He planted wet, sucking kisses against her neck and grasped her hips to pull her up toward him. "You love my cock in you, don't you? Love the way I make you feel."

"Yeah Juicy yeah oh God oh fuck _yes_!" The last word was almost a scream, and this time when she clenched around him he knew he wouldn't be able to hold on. Her muscles rippled beneath his hands and her throat worked but no sound came out.

"Fuck baby fuck that's so hot love you love you love you!"

With a groan and a cry he came, his cock jerking and spasming inside her as she shuddered through her own orgasm. He held her tight, mouthed her neck and shoulder, and she moaned his name in a breathless chant.

"Holy shit, Livvie," he breathed. "Holy shit."

Finally it started to subside for both of them, and he slumped against her, boneless and flushed and tingling everywhere. There was a long silence while they both scrambled for breath, but finally she laughed and stretched.

"Wow," she said.

He groaned and rolled away to get rid of the condom. "Yeah?" he said as he pulled her close. "Wow?"

Giddy, she giggled and snuggled against him. "Yeah, Ortiz. Wow."

He licked away a droplet of sweat that slid down her temple and ran his hand along the length of her body. "I was thinking _wow_ too, but I wasn't sure."

"Juice. Come on. I don't think it's actually legal for people our age to have sex that good. I think there's a law against it. No sex that good until you're at least twenty-five."

He grinned and kissed the spot behind her ear. "Maybe thirty."

Her fingers tangled with his and she turned so that they were face to face. Her eyes were warm on his, her expression intent.

"What?" he said, brow furrowing.

"Nothing," she said with a brief smile.

"Bullshit. Something. What?"

She chewed on her lip and he brushed her hair off her forehead. "I've never been in love before."

"Oh." He grinned. "Is that all? Yeah, me neither."

"It's not funny, Ortiz!"

"I'm not laughing. Not really." He tilted her chin up and kissed her, soft and slow. "We're gonna be just fine, Liv. You and me. Everything else's just details."

He leaned back and his mouth twisted. "And if the sex is this good now, imagine what it'll be like when we're thirty!"

"Hhhmmm." She shoved gently at his shoulder until he rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him so that she straddled his hips. She guided his hands over her breasts and down to her hips. "You still gonna want me when we're thirty?"

"Baby," he said on a breath, "I'll still want you when we're eighty."

She went still, and he tensed. Then suddenly, like a light flipping on, her mouth curved in a huge, breathtaking smile. She laughed and rested her hands against his chest. "When we're eighty, huh?"

"Yep," he said. "Ninety, too. A hundred. I don't know. How long you think we'll live?"

Her shoulders rippled in a shrug that did fascinating things to her breasts. He pinched a nipple between his knuckles and she captured his hand in hers. "Doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, as long as it's you and me."

Their fingers twined together and she squeezed.

"It will be," he said. "It's gotta be. You're mine, Liv. You're mine and I'm yours."

"Oh good," she said and bent to kiss him. "I really like the sound of that."

* * *

_Uumm. Damn okay. I really need to refocus on this so I can get the main plot into gear and maybe wrap it up sometime. :)_


	30. Along the Way

Aaaand we're back. Thank you guys for the lovely reviews you've been leaving. :) I really do appreciate them.

* * *

**let go of your fear**  
** let's grow old together**  
**find a place along the way**  
**let's reel through the years**  
**each makes the other better**  
**but what thoughts can i call allies**  
**when this circle of ribs keeps working on its own?**  
Better Than Ezra, "WWOZ"

The rest of Spring Break passed in a sort of daze. They both rejoined their social circle, and no one commented on their absence. Or the breakup and reconciliation. It wasn't really their style anyway; life just rolled on, and you either rolled with it or got out of the way.

Juice had been asking around, trying to find the guys who'd drugged Olivia. John Patric had been no help; he hadn't even invited anyone from North, he claimed, and he didn't really know any of them. He said he barely knew half the people there—which had sort of been the point, but still. Juice told him without mentioning Olivia's name that the guys he was looking for had been drugging girls' drinks, and John had promised he'd try to find them.

It was another week before Juice finally found what he was looking for. John couldn't figure out exactly who it was, but he did know that most of the guys from North were on the lacrosse team there. They'd thought it was funny to crash the rival team's party, apparently.

Juice got his hands on last year's yearbook and went immediately to the lacrosse team photo. There they were. Back row and second row. Rob Brady and Thomas Henderson.

What a couple of pretentious douchebags.

He ripped the page out (he was sure SanWa North's library could spare it) and stuffed it in his pocket. The librarian tried to stop him on his way out, but he ignored her and kept going. Jax and Opie waited for him in the parking lot, and he handed the page to Jax. He'd circled their faces, and after a moment Jax nodded and passed it to Opie.

"I remember seein' the one guy. Henderson. He was workin' the keg most of the night," Opie said.

"Brady tried to hit on Tara at some point," Jax said. "Smug little shit. She threw her beer on him."

Juice's mouth quirked. "Okay, so, what do we do?"

"We could handle it ourselves," said Opie, shrugging.

"These guys are on a team," Jax said. "You think they're really the only two doin' this shit?"

"For all we know they pick a girl and sort of…" Opie glanced at Juice and cleared his throat. "Just sayin', I mean—"

Juice held up a hand. "I know, man. Believe me, I've thought of it all." He shook his head. "Not sure the three of us can take on the entire SanWa North lacrosse team."

"We can't send the club after a bunch of dumb high school assholes," Jax said with a scowl.

"High school rapists," Juice said. "You think they gave up after I got Olivia out of there? There might be some poor girl right now who had a really shitty time at that party."

"And if not that one, other ones. Juice's right," Opie said. "No way this was the first time. No one even saw them drug her, far as we know. That's pretty fuckin' smooth."

"The club's supposed to be keeping crime out of Charming, right?" Juice said. "I think this counts."

Jax' jaw worked a moment before he finally nodded. "I'll take it to Clay."

"Nah," Juice said. "Lemme handle it."

Jax and Opie exchanged looks.

"Olivia's my girl. If I'm not goin' after these guys myself, then I at least gotta be the one to bring this shit to the club. I'll talk to Chibs."

They shared a wordless conversation, but Juice was so used to them by this point that he mostly ignored it. He knew Jax wouldn't be able to talk to Clay until dinner at the earliest, and Juice was planning to head straight to TM to see Chibs. So it really didn't matter what they decided. He buckled his helmet and waited, straddling his bike as it idled beneath him.

Finally Jax gave a nod. "Yeah, Juicy. We'll let you make the play on this one."

"Great," Juice said. "Glad to hear it."

He offered a wave as he revved the bike and peeled from the parking lot. He understood where Jax and Opie were coming from; he was still an outsider in most ways, and they had their way of doing things. But when it came to Olivia it was his call, not theirs. Yeah they were her friends, and obviously they'd known her longer, but he didn't care. She was his. Period.

It gave him a hot, electric thrill to know he could say that (at least to her) and not get smacked for it. And he was hers, and he loved that just as much.

He'd thought he was heading to TM, but suddenly he realized he was a block from Olivia's and heading the wrong direction. He grinned. Detour.

At his knock she opened the door and hauled him in by his hoodie. His arms went around her and his mouth was on hers and he grabbed double handfuls of her hair. She nibbled his lip and rubbed her tongue against his. They swallowed each other's moans and pressed as close as they could with clothes on, but he wanted more. He started to back her down the hall, toward the bedroom, but she stopped him.

"Wait," she murmured. "Just a sec. I've got something I want to give you."

"A blowjob?" he said, grinning.

She smacked his chest with the back of her hand. "Keep it up, Ortiz."

"Sorry," he said. He obviously wasn't sorry at all, and his cocky, face-illuminating grin had her kissing him again. He slid his hands under her t-shirt at the small of her back, and the feel of his warm palms skating along her ribs made her pant.

"Wait, okay," she said. She pulled away and dodged him when he tried to grab her. "Hang on, hang on!"

He let out a long sigh and lifted his arms in surrender. "Fine. But don't blame me because I can't keep my hands off you."

"Your hands, or your mouth?" she said.

"Both," he growled. He closed in on her again, but she giggled and ran the other way. He pounced, pushing her against the wall, and pressed his body into hers.

She let out a long breath and squirmed. He dipped his head to trail soft kisses down the side of her neck while he stroked the smooth skin just above the waistband of her jeans.

"Sorry, baby," he mumbled. "Gonna try to behave. I promise."

"You just come here for a booty call, Juan Carlos?"

"Nuh uh," he said. "Promise. Just missed you, that's all."

"Mmhhmm." She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged his head back. Nipped at his Adam's apple and then pushed him away. "Two seconds, baby. Two seconds and then I'll take you down the hall and we'll do things that are illegal in twenty states."

He paused. "Like what?"

Grinning, she said, "I don't know, love. I guess we'll have to do some research first." She opened the closet door and reached in to pull something out, and when she turned around she was holding his jacket.

He was still stuck on _do some research first_, so it took a second to register. When it did he blinked and frowned a little. "What's up?"

"I'm giving it back to you. Turn around."

He did, slowly, and then shrugged into the jacket when she slipped it over his shoulders. She walked around him and ran her hands over his chest, smoothing the leather.

"There," she said. "Much better."

He tilted his head and inhaled through his nose. "Smells like you."

"Um." She glanced away, blushing. "Yeah. I sort of…I wore it a lot. While we were apart? I was really relieved you hadn't taken it and it reminded me of you, so…"

He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her head until their eyes met. "You wore my jacket?"

"Yeah…?"

His face creased in a huge smile. "That's the cutest thing I've ever heard." A thoughtful pause. "Kind of the sexiest, too."

Her blush deepened. "I guess I shouldn't mention the part where sometimes it was all I was wearing. Or just that and panties."

He let out a hard breath and pulled her against him. "Baby, did you ever…?"

"Once?" she said, embarrassed. "Maybe—maybe twice…?"

"Holy shit. Don't think I'll be able to wear this again without gettin' hard."

"That so?" She smirked and brushed her hand across the front of his pants. "You know how much I love makin' you hard, Juicy."

"You're very mean, Olivia Gable."

"You love it. Every second of it."

He groaned as her fingers tightened around his erection. "Yeah," he said. "Fuck yeah I do."

She nipped his jaw with her lips. "Didn't you say something about a blowjob?"

"Pretty sure I did."

Tossing a teasing smile over her shoulder, she sauntered down the hall toward her bedroom. "Then come on, baby. Not sure what you're waiting for."

* * *

Juice reluctantly disentangled himself from Olivia and kissed her forehead. "I gotta go, babe," he said.

"I know." She pulled the sheet up and wrapped her arm around it to hold it in place. "It's okay. I've got a ton of homework."

He dropped down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots, and she draped her arms over his shoulders. She'd let the sheet fall, and he hadn't put his shirt on yet. The feel of her warm skin against his almost sent him right back to bed.

Instead he grabbed her wrist and brought a hand to his mouth to kiss it. "See you tomorrow?" he said.

"Come pick me up." She kissed the curve of his ear. "I'm tired of the truck."

He grinned. "Sounds good." He groaned as she slid her hands down his chest. "Baby, please. I'm sixteen. I can only take so much."

"What's the matter, Juicy? Thinkin' about me wearing your jacket again? _Just_ your jacket? With my mouth around your cock?"

Considering that's what had been happening only a little over an hour ago, the image was still fresh in his mind. He shuddered and pulled away. "Okay," he said. "Okay, no, for real. I'm going."

Laughing, she fell back on the bed. "Go on, love. I'll see you in the morning."

He glanced back at her from the doorway. She'd turned onto her side and had her head propped in her hand. Her hair fell around her like a mermaid. "Love you, Liv."

"I love you too, Juicy. Go on." She blew him a kiss. "Talk to you later."

He ducked out and headed for his bike. It wasn't quite dark yet, and the evening was balmy and perfect. It was a ten minute ride to TM, and by the time he got there the moon was up. He parked in his usual spot and went to look for Chibs.

He knew he could talk to any of the guys about this, but he didn't think Olivia would want just any of them to know. Chibs would be okay. She liked Chibs. He always seemed to look out for her, and he was quick to speak up on her behalf or shut someone up if they were being a jerk.

Tig was in the garage, and he pointed Juice toward the clubhouse. When he hesitated Tig rolled his eyes and walked him over there. He pushed Juice in the door, pointed to the bar, and walked away.

"Lad!" Chibs said when he saw him. "Get you a drink?"

Juice frowned and wandered that way. "Uh. I'm only sixteen, Chibs."

"Ach. Lager, then." He pulled a Bud Light from the fridge and set it on the bar. Juice frowned at it a minute, shrugged, and twisted the lid. "You workin' today, Juicy?" Chibs said as he sipped his own drink.

"Nah. I actually came lookin' for you."

"Aye? What's on your mind?"

He put the bottle down and fished in his pocket for the yearbook page. Unfolded it and slid it across the bar. Chibs studied it a moment, then lifted a brow at Juice.

"I appreciate the thought, lad, but I can find my own date. Also they're a might young for me."

Juice rolled his eyes. "Last week Liv and I went to this party. Not together, we were both just there. Anyway—these guys, the ones circled, drugged her with something. GHB or roofies, I don't know what."

Chibs straightened and his face went hard. "What?"

"I got her away from them before anything happened, but they obviously had a system. Didn't seem like it was the first time they'd done somethin' like that."

"Holy shite, lad. You tryin' to tell me these little bastards are serial rapists?"

Juice shrugged a shoulder. "All I know is what I saw, and nobody saw them drug her. It was smooth." He paused. "It's why I'm bringin' this to you. Opie, Jax, and I could try to go after them, but if it's all these guys we can't handle it just the three of us. And it needs to be handled."

"Aye," he said. "I agree." He tapped a fingertip against the picture. "The lass know you're tellin' me this?"

"Nope," Juice said with a grin. "It'd be nice if it stayed that way. Her dad knows, though. He's the one who asked me to find out who did it, and to bring their names to the club."

"Hm," Chibs said, his mouth quirking in amusement. "Man knows what he's about."

"Yeah," said Juice. "He does."

"Did you think of bringin' this to Unser?"

"What could Unser do? We don't have any actual proof. Like I said, no one saw them drug her drink. She got a beer from this guy, and a few minutes later she was stumbling around while this guy led her upstairs."

"Jesus," Chibs said, gruffly. He took the page and shoved it in a pocket inside his cut. "I'll take it to the table. We can't have shite like this in Charming."

"Thanks, Chibs," Juice said. "I appreciate it."

There was a brief pause while they both drank. Then, "So you and the lass made up?"

Juice ducked his head to hide a grin. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we're good."

"That's what I like to hear, Juicy boy. Girl like that shouldn't be alone."

"What's that mean?" he said, face scrunching.

Chibs hitched a shoulder. "Nothin', lad. Just glad you two worked it all out."

"Huh. If I didn't know any better I might think you wanted to fuck my girlfriend." He said it like a joke, but at the way Chibs' back went stiff Juice's eyes widened. "What the fuck, man? She's seventeen! And she's my girlfriend!"

"Now, lad, don't get excited. She's a fine lookin' lass, that's all. I'm well aware of her age. I'd never touch her, even if you weren't in the picture."

Juice peeled at a loose corner of his beer bottle's label. "She tell you about our teacher?"

"Aye," Chibs said, shortly.

He nodded, and when he raised his head again his eyes were hot and dark against Chibs'. "She doesn't need anything else like that. She says she made the choice, and maybe she did. I just don't think she needs to be in a place to make a choice like that again."

Chibs frowned a little. "I've no designs on your girl, Juicy."

"I know. I just wanna make sure you understand _why_ you don't have any designs on my girl."

Chibs had to fight the urge to laugh. This scrawny sixteen-year-old punk was threatening him. Part of him wanted to say that if he wanted Olivia—_really_ wanted her—he could have her without much of a fight or fuss. But as he watched Juice across the bar, took his measure, Chibs began to doubt how true that was.

"I get it, lad," he said at last.

"Good," he said and pushed away from the bar. "Thanks for the beer, and for taking care of those assholes."

"Aye, Juicy boy. It's what we do."

* * *

Prom was all anyone talked about around school these days. It was in three weeks, and tickets had gone on sale the Monday after Spring Break. It was junior-senior, because neither class was very big, and while Juice had been pretty thrilled to buy tickets for him and Olivia, Jax and Opie moaned and groaned about it for an entire week before they finally broke down and forked over the cash.

But then Tara and Olivia (and Donna, too, though her parents were willing to buy her what she wanted) decided they didn't want to spend the money on prom dresses, so the guys sold their tickets to sophomores for major inflation and everyone ended up happy. They decided to do something together that night, the six of them. Maybe drive to the beach or to Yosemite. Something fun that wouldn't cost so much money—or involve running into TJ Flanary. He'd been banned from prom court, but no one thought he'd skip prom altogether.

So, about a week before the big event, they were gathered at the picnic tables outside the cafeteria. Last bell had gone about twenty minutes ago, but they were all feeling too lazy to move. Gradually the place had emptied out around them, and now they were virtually alone.

"The cabin?" Tara said.

Olivia threw a grape at her, and she dodged it with a glare. "What?"

"We were just there a few weeks ago."

"I don't know," Jax said. "I had a good time."

"I think we all did," Opie muttered.

"Except for the hiking," said Juice.

Olivia grinned and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, babe. No one's gonna drag you into the woods again."

Donna stole one of Olivia's grapes and chewed thoughtfully. "If we went to Yosemite there'd probably be hiking."

"We've got two strikes against hiking," Jax said, because he knew Olivia wasn't into it either.

"Three," said Tara. "Sorry, but that's not exactly how I envisioned my prom night."

"Ditto, to be honest," Donna said.

"Okay," said Opie, "so how about the beach?"

"We could have a bonfire," Tara said.

"Marshmallows," Olivia said, pitching her voice low so only Juice could hear.

He choked a little, and Jax cast him a puzzled look. "Swallowed wrong," he said and held up his Coke.

"I think the beach is a great idea," Olivia said. She slid off the bench and snapped the lid on her container of grapes. "You guys decide for sure and let me know. I've gotta get to work."

"We still on for later?" Juice said.

"I hope so." She kissed him, waved to the others, and hurried out toward the parking lot. She paused before crossing the asphalt, ostensibly to slide her sunglasses on, but really to check who was still around. No red BMW, she saw with relief.

It was getting ridiculous, and she knew she needed to tell someone about it. But she felt so fucking stupid. He hadn't said anything to her. He hadn't done anything to her. There hadn't been any more pictures. Just…him. His car on her street. The scent of his cologne when she opened her locker.

She didn't even feel threatened, exactly. Just _watched_. It was exhausting, and whenever she rounded a corner and he _wasn't_ there, she felt a surge of relief.

She paused a few feet from the truck and blinked. A flat? Fuck. She was going to be late, and—oh.

No. Not a flat. Not exactly. Her head fall back and she let out a harsh, strained laugh. Part of her wanted to turn around and grab Juice and Jax and Opie and send them after TJ's worthless ass, but she knew that was pointless and stupid. Instead she pulled out her phone and dialed the garage.

Gemma answered, and she promised she'd get a truck out to the school as soon as possible. She asked if one of the guys could give her a ride, but Olivia said she'd rather wait. Gemma understood, luckily, and so Olivia hopped up into the cab, rolled down the window…and waited.

It was only about fifteen minutes before the TM tow appeared. She waved the driver down, and as it got closer she saw it was Chibs. Great. She'd sort of been avoiding him since that weird day in the garage last month, but that was probably dumb anyway. She sighed and slumped back against the door, and when he hopped out his expression was inscrutable behind his sunglasses.

"Lass," he said.

"Heya, Chibs."

"Gem said you're in need of a tow."

She jerked her thumb to indicate the truck's tires, and he let out a low whistle as he studied them.

"All four, aye?"

"Yup."

"Any suspects?"

"Nope."

He tugged his glasses off and studied her. "Nobody likes a liar, darlin'."

"I don't know," she said. "We elect them to public office all the time."

He barked out an appreciative laugh. "Aye, true enough. Well. Let's get on with it, shall we?"

She hopped up into the tow's bed to grab the chains and Chibs got them hooked on. "Y'know, if he'd been smart he would only've slashed three of them," he said, conversationally.

She made a face. "How the fuck would that've helped me?"

"Wouldn't. But insurance pays for four, not three."

"Great, Chibs. I'll be sure to write a note for next time."

Ugh. She couldn't avoid telling her dad about this, because they couldn't really afford new tires. It would mean an insurance claim and a bunch of bullshit. He'd know it was TJ, no matter what she tried to tell him, and she would have to confess about the weird gifts and seeing him around everywhere.

He was going to fucking _flip_.

Chibs was bent over near the truck's fender as he got it hooked into place, but after a moment he straightened. "What the fuck is that smell, darlin'?"

"What smell?"

He recognized it, but if she hadn't noticed he wasn't sure he wanted to bring it to her attention. "Nothin'," he said. "I think I might've hit somethin' on the way over. Stinkin' up the truck."

"That's gross, Chibs."

"Aye, well." He waved toward the tow truck's cab. "Go sit in there and wait, Ollie girl. Won't be much longer."

She started to protest, but after a moment she just shrugged and did as he said. He waited until she had the door closed, her back to him, before he reached into the pickup's wheel well. His fingers brushed fur, stiff and sticky, and his face scrunched in disgust as he pulled it free.

A ginger cat. He knew Olivia didn't have one, so that was a relief, but still. The poor thing's throat had been slit, maybe with the same thing her admirer had used to slash the pickup's tires. Frowning, he fetched a towel from the bed of the tow truck and wrapped it up before he stowed it away. He'd take it out somewhere to bury it, sad wee thing, and he'd quietly let Juice know.

Chibs wasn't stupid. He knew things didn't usually escalate straight from photographs to dead household pets and slashed tires. Whatever was happening she'd been dealing with it for a while, and no doubt keeping it to herself. He grunted. Typical Ollie.

Enough of that, he thought. It was time she did a little talking.

* * *

_Pretty sure she's not gonna talk to Chibs about the TJ situation. But she's right about one thing: her dad is gonna flip his shit._


	31. Alone

Back again, friend readers. Maybe only like...3-4 more chapters on this?

* * *

**scared are you?**  
**you do it on your own**  
**you do it all alone**  
**we all did**  
**scared are you?**  
**half the lines we make up dear**  
**the best that you can do**  
Better Than Ezra, "Scared Are You?"

It was her dad's day off, so as soon as they got back to TM she called him. She didn't tell him what was going on, just that there was an issue with the truck and she needed him to come down to the shop.

When he got there he was less than pleased.

"All four of them," he said, a flat, disbelieving statement.

"Yes…but if it makes you feel any better, Chibs said if he hadn't done them all the insurance wouldn't pay."

He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. "That's a comfort, Ollie, thank you."

"Daddy, come on. This isn't my fault."

He sighed. "I know it's not, pumpkin." He paused to study her. "You know who did it?"

"Not a super long list of suspects." She yanked open the passenger door and rifled through the glove compartment. She'd put the "gifts" in baggies, and now she set them out for him to see. "I threw the chocolates out, but…these tacks. Each piece had a tack in it."

"Olivia—"

"I know. I know I should've told you."

His face was hard and stern as he looked at her. "Olivia Jameson, this is more than just keeping something from me. This is dangerous. You could've been hurt."

She rarely heard that tone from him, and it made her squirm. "I know, Daddy. I'm sorry. I just didn't want to worry you."

"So now he's slashed your tires. That's vandalism. You can call Unser about this."

Biting her lip, she looked away. "Dad—"

"No. No arguments. I think Gemma will understand if you have to miss work today, Olivia. Go sit in the car and wait. I'll be there as soon as I talk to Chibs."

Her mouth fell open, but she recognized the look. She had no wiggle room here. Finally she nodded and slunk away, her hands in her pockets and her head down.

Chibs had been keeping his distance, but once she was out of earshot he moved closer. "Somethin' else you should know," he said. He motioned for James to follow him, and carefully pulled back the towel shrouding the cat.

"What the—? What the fuck is this?"

"It was in the wheel well of the truck. Neck's cut. Notice the color, aye?"

"Yeah," James said, grimly. He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Jesus. We gotta call the cops."

Chibs grunted and hid the cat again. "Up to you, of course, but they won't be able to do much of anything. No proof who it is, and I'm sure that little shite's got twenty kids eager and willin' to lie about his whereabouts today."

"So what the fuck do I do? I gotta protect my little girl."

Chibs clapped a hand on James' shoulder and squeezed. "You let us take care of it."

"The club? No. I can't ask you to do that. Teddy Flanary is a powerful man in this town. It's too risky." He hesitated. Frowned. "Besides, you're already dealing with that other thing. Or so Juice told me."

"Aye," he said, slowly. "But that's just good business. Can't have shite like that goin' on in our town." He gestured toward the dead cat. "This, either."

"Olivia seems to think Ana Ortiz was let go at the mill because of what Juice did to TJ."

Chibs grunted. "Punchin' him, you mean? Aye, maybe." He let out a hard sigh. "How about this. We've got a new prospect. Good kid, from what I can tell, and real eager to please. I could put him on Ollie. Have him keep an eye on her when she's not at school or here."

"Follow her, you mean?"

He spread his hands in a shrug. "You want to tell her, go ahead. You're her da. But…"

"Yeah. Not really an argument I'm looking to have, either."

"Up to you," said Chibs. "I know Juicy sticks pretty close to her."

"He's a sixteen-year-old kid."

"Aye, well, so's the one harassing her."

James frowned and looked away. "She says he hasn't made a move. Just the weird gifts, now the poor cat and the tires. I worry it's escalating. Violence against an animal? That's…a step beyond."

"Let me talk to the prospect. Lad's name's Jimmy." He pointed across the lot to a tall gangly kid, maybe twenty-two, with slicked back black hair and a scraggly goatee. "Don't look like much, but he's been good so far."

"Yeah, all right," James said at last. "She'll notice him, though. She's not stupid. I'll talk to her about it tonight, tell her what's going on. Don't want her to think your prospect is a friend of TJ's."

"Aye," Chibs said with a grin. "Probably best. I'll send him 'round tomorrow."

"Great, Chibs." James held out his hand and Chibs shook it. "Thanks. And thanks for taking care of the truck, too."

"It's what we do. Ollie's a good lass. Works hard. We take care of our own here, and that includes you. You matter to Ollie, you matter to us."

* * *

Olivia wasn't happy about it, but she knew she didn't really have room to argue. So she had an entourage now. Or could you really call it an entourage when there was only one guy? She wasn't sure, but she hadn't stopped bitching about it all week.

Jimmy wasn't that bad, and she wasn't really all _that_ pissed about it, but it was the issue of the thing. Her dad knew her well enough to get it, so he just rolled his eyes and ignored her complaints. It was pointless, of course, but she had to make sure he realized how annoyed she was.

She'd at least negotiated with him so that when she was with Juice he wasn't around. She didn't need a chaperone on her dates (though she kinda thought her dad considered that a sort of bonus feature), and after she explained it to Jimmy—and got Juice to talk to him—he finally backed off.

It had been three days since the truck incident, and prom was right around the corner. They still hadn't quite decided what they were going to do, but Olivia's dad had lifted her curfew for the night. When she told him, Juice had gone sort of glassy-eyed and she still didn't know what he had in his head.

Olivia had a shift at TM after school, and she'd been cooking an idea since discovering the slashed tires. Tig was on that day, and it didn't really suit her, but she knew when it came down to it he was mostly harmless. To her. Not to…the world in general. She wasn't _stupid_.

It was a quiet night, and as they were closing up she figured she might as well just ask him. She wiped the counter down four or five times even though it didn't really need it. Rearranged the wrenches in the tool chest. And finally took a deep breath and dove in.

"Hey, Tiggy, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, darlin'. You need me to buy you some alcohol? You need weed?"

She made a face. "I've got a fake ID. And—no, not weed either. No, listen. Did Chibs tell you about the truck?"

"Your dad's truck? Yeah, he mentioned it. Said the new prospect was gonna be followin' you around, keepin' an eye out."

"Yeah. He's very keen."

Tig smirked. "I would be too, if it were my job."

She rolled her eyes and spun away. "Maybe I should ask somebody else."

"Wait, come on, I was just kidding."

She paused and turned back, her green eyes stormy. "You know I can take a joke, Tig."

"Yeah, usually."

Hooking her thumbs on her back pockets, she shrugged and looked away. "That's not really the kinda joke I'm in the mood to take these days. Too many people think they can talk about me and joke about me and look at me. Get it?"

He studied her. "You know you need me to knock some heads together, you just gotta say the word."

Her mouth quirked. "Funny you should say that. I don't want you to knock any heads together, but I was hoping you could teach me how to. I mean, I know I'm small, but I'm strong for my size, and I get pissed off pretty easy."

"You're a firecracker," he said with a grin.

She shook her head. "Careful, Tiggy. I'm not afraid to ask Chibs instead."

"Aw, sweetheart, why you gotta be that way? You want me to teach you some moves, I'll teach you. I'm a very good teacher."

His tone made her lift a brow at him. She wondered if he'd heard about her and Ben…but unlike with Chibs, she wasn't about to ask. "Thanks, Tig. I appreciate it."

"You got time now?"

"That's what I was thinking, yeah."

He nodded. "Get finished up here. I'll be right back."

"Where—?" But he was already gone, out the door toward the clubhouse like a shot. She sighed. At least they'd been almost done anyway. She swept the floor and was just stowing the broom when he reappeared.

"Well," she said with a half-smile. "Thought you might not come back."

"I had to go get something." He brandished a set of brass knuckles and she blinked at him. "Wait." A flick of his wrist and a six-inch blade popped out.

"Ooo."

"That's what all the girls say," he said, smirking.

"If you can't behave, Trager—"

"All right, all right, sorry." He folded the knife and handed it to her. "See how it feels. With the handle like that you don't even gotta use the blade unless shit gets real bad."

She wove her fingers through the grip and flexed around it. "Yeah, that's good."

"Little loose," he said with a frown. "You got small hands."

"I'm a seventeen-year-old girl and this is a knife made for a grown man. So yeah. I've got small hands."

He forced his mind to go blank, and if she saw any of what he was thinking on his face she didn't comment. "Uh, okay." He circled behind her and showed her how to tuck her thumb so she didn't break it if she had to punch somebody.

"You're gonna wanna put your weight behind it. All your weight, because you're fuckin' miniature."

She snorted and glared up at him. He moved his head in a sort of shrug and closed his hand around her elbow.

"Twist like that, and make sure you follow through. That's how you get real impact. If you were boxing I'd say be up on your toes, but you gotta plant your feet to really hit somebody the way you mean. Bring it from here," he said and pressed his palm against her middle.

"Okay."

"Any questions?"

"Just one, I think." She paused. Cast a look over her shoulder. "Do you fucking _bathe_ in Old Spice?"

"Funny. Just try the damn punch, you fuckin' brat."

She did what he said: twist, follow through, move from her core, but he let out a noise of distress. "No. Look." He grabbed her bicep and squeezed. "Tighten up here." Her shoulder. "Here, too. You want good movement, kinda fluid, but if your muscles aren't hard you aren't gonna get anywhere."

"I bet all the girls say that, too," she said.

"I'm tryin' to figure out why I agreed to do this."

She ignored him. "I need something to punch. How'm I supposed to know if I'm just swinging at thin air?"

"Could take you over to the clubhouse. Got a weight room over there. Punching bag and shit."

"Great," she said. "Let's go."

He hesitated, but after a moment he nodded. "Yeah, okay. After you."

She knew he was checking out her ass as she walked away, but he was Tig. It was expected. Honestly she might take him to the hospital if he _didn't_ check out her ass. She put a little swing in her step just to give him a show (she had to thank him for helping her somehow), and at one point he almost tripped over his feet.

Happy was already in the weight room when they got there. He was Nomad, and not around that much, but Olivia knew him to say hello. He kind of freaked her out a little, but when he heard what they were doing he was quick to volunteer to help. She felt bad telling him no, and then Chibs appeared and suddenly she had three teachers.

"Okay, this's boring," Tig said about twenty minutes later. "You really wanna know how to hit somebody, you actually gotta hit somebody."

"With brass knuckles?" she said.

"Yeah, it's good. I can take it."

"Aye, lassie. Tig knows how to take a poundin'."

She rolled her eyes at him while Happy snorted and choked.

"Fine," she said.

"Wait, hang on. How tall is the person you might be punching?" Tig said.

"Um." She held up her hand. "About there, I guess."

Tig spread his legs until his head was level with her palm. "Okay. Do it. Don't hold back, either."

She cast a questioning glance back at Chibs, but he just shrugged. A quick look at Happy, who nodded as he didn't bother to suppress a delighted grin.

She was a quick study (she'd taken ballet until the year before her mom died), and, like she said, stronger than she looked. With a deep breath, she pulled her arm back and let fly, just like they'd taught her. She put her weight behind it, and the second her fist hit his face she knew she'd done damage. There was a _crack_ and his head fell back. He staggered, and if Happy hadn't been there he might've gone down.

"Jesus fuck holy cuntfucker ream me in the ass what the _fuck_?"

"Holy shit," she said.

Behind her Chibs doubled over and howled. Happy's laughter was silent, and his entire body shook with it. Olivia flexed her hand around the knuckles and winced.

"You okay, Tiggy?" she said. "Oh my God you're _bleeding_! Shit, I'm so sorry. You told me not to pull it, and so I didn't but I never meant—"

"Lass, lass," Chibs said between gasps, "don't apologize to him. It's his own fault. You're bleedin', you fecking idiot."

"Quit laughing, you assholes! She hit me real fuckin' hard!"

"You _told_ me to!"

"Somebody go save the security footage of this shit," Happy said.

"Oh my God," Olivia said again. "I'm going home."

"Wait, Ollie, come on," Tig said. "It's okay. I'm fine. You didn't break anything."

"Next time I'll be sure to hit you harder," she snapped.

The door slammed behind her and they all stood in silence a minute.

"Well," said Tig. "Clearly I am one hell of a teacher."

"One hell of a moron," Happy said. "Come on. Let's go get you some ice for your nose. We can tell everybody how the little girl punched you in the face."

"She's a lot stronger than she looks," he grumbled. "And she had the knuckles."

"Uh huh. Keep tellin' yourself that, Tiggy," Happy said.

Chibs followed them toward the kitchen, laughing at their banter, but he peeled away and headed toward the lot. She probably hadn't left yet, and he wanted to check in with her.

"Lass!" he called as he jogged toward the truck.

She stopped with her fingers on the door handle and turned toward him. Her expression was annoyed, and for a moment he hesitated. She let out an exasperated sigh and waved him closer.

"What? I didn't mean to hit him that hard."

"Nah, darlin', you did great. His own stupid fault for askin' you to hit him at all." He pulled out his cigarettes, but as her scowl deepened he frowned and tucked them away again. "I just wanted to make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine." A brief pause while she chewed her lower lip. "Thanks for helping, and thank Tig for me too. Hope I won't really have to use it again, though."

"You worried about…ah, whoever slashed your tires?"

"TJ Flanary. It's okay; you can say his name." She hitched a shoulder. "I don't know. I'd like to think he's harmless, but it's better to be prepared."

"Aye," he said. Then, "Keep that knife on you, lass. Try not to use the blade if you don't have to."

"I wasn't really interested in stabbing anyone, Chibs."

His head tilted in acknowledgment. "Still. Take care. And you know if you need anything, we're here."

"Do me a favor, Chibby."

"Aye, Ollie girl. Anything."

She smiled, but it was more like a baring of teeth. "Go ask Tiggy's nose how well I can take care of myself."

* * *

When she got home Juice's bike was parked in front of her house, and he sat on the porch steps waiting for her. He smiled when he saw her, and she had to grin back. He rose as she got closer, still on the bottom step; she lifted to her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Hey, love. Been here long?"

"Nah. Ten minutes or so. I thought you'd be home."

"Oh." She sighed and unlocked the door to let them in. "I stayed a little late at work."

"Where's Jimmy?"

"I think he has the night off. I left sort of…well."

He followed her into the kitchen and they made some grilled cheese sandwiches as she told him what had happened at TM.

"You punched Tig in the face?"

"He asked me to."

"Did you break his nose?"

She shook her head and grabbed drinks from the fridge. "I don't think so. He was bleeding, but it's actually a lot harder to break a nose than people think."

"Man," he said, shaking his head wonderingly. "I really hope Hap gets that security footage."

Frowning, she picked at her sandwich. "It was sort of an accident. I guess they taught me pretty well."

"Can I see the knife?"

She tilted to reach in her back pocket before she handed it across the table to him. He laced his fingers through the grip and grinned.

"This's sweet." He flicked his wrist and the blade popped out. "Wow. Tig just gave this to you?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, Chibs told me to keep it close, so I assumed that meant it was mine to keep."

He stowed the blade and gave it back to her. "I hope you don't ever need it, but I'm glad you have it."

They were quiet for a time while they ate, and she could tell Juice had something on his mind. She waited him out. Finally, after he polished off his third sandwich, he took a long pull of Coke and smiled at her. She lifted a brow.

"What's up?"

"Um, it's about tomorrow. Prom night."

Her mouth quirked. "I know what tomorrow is, silly."

"Right," he said. "So I was kinda thinking…since your dad lifted your curfew, we can…we could, if you wanted, maybe get a nice room somewhere…? And, like…" He trailed off with a blush.

"Spend the night together?"

"Well, yeah. I know we have before, on the camping trip, but that was before."

She reached for his hand and squeezed. "I think that's a great idea. Do you still want to go with everybody else?"

"I don't know. I don't wanna bail on them completely."

"Me neither. So we could hang with them for a little while, then go do our own thing?"

"Yeah. I think Ope might be plannin' something like that with Donna. I guess her parents are finally loosening up a little."

Olivia made a face and collected their plates. "I don't know if they'll ever really approve, but honestly I think that has way more to do with Piney than Opie. Opie's great."

"You know, if we ever break up—"

"What?"

"Not that it's gonna happen, but if we did, I hope we could still be friends like you and Ope."

She blinked at him. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe. It'd be a lot harder. Opie and I never…"

"Never what?"

"Loved each other. Not like we do."

"Oh," he said, grinning. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

She took his face in her hands and kissed him. "Algebra homework?"

"Ugh."

"I know. Me too."

"Naked algebra homework?" he said, hopefully.

"Not sure we'd get a ton of work done."

"I think it might be worth it."

She smirked and kissed him again. "Do you always think with your penis, Ortiz?"

"Nah, of course not," he said. "It just happens more often when I'm around you."

"Hhhmm." Her arms went around his neck and he pressed his hands to her waist. He dipped his head to nip at her lips. "I think maybe I could be talked into naked algebra homework."

"I figured." His grin turned wicked. "How about you sit at the desk and work on the math, and I…eat your pussy."

"How am I supposed to concentrate on algebra while that's going on?" she said, laughing.

"Let's see how long you _can_ concentrate." He poked her. "C'mon. It'll be fun."

"All right," she said. "And after we switch, and we'll see how long _you_ can concentrate while I have your cock in my mouth."

"Like five minutes. Max."

"Wimp." She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the bedroom. "C'mon," she said, teasing him. "It'll be fun."

* * *

_*pants* Sorry this update took so long, kids. It almost killed me._

_To answer a question: Olivia is the oldest of their group because her birthday is in October. She's 17, and at this point (late April), so is Tara (January birthday), Opie (Feb), and Jax (early April). Donna and Juice are still 16, because Donna's birthday is in early May and Juice's is in July. How do I know all these birthdays? Well, friends, I made them the fuck up. Also, TJ's actually 18 (he's a senior, and he's already had his 18th birthday), and Chibs is just making a point when he says he's 16._


	32. Killer Inside

Sorry this update was so delayed, loves! Had some _issues_. Anyway, here we go. :)

* * *

**well she believes that time can make things right**  
**and i want to believe that there's been a change in me**  
Better Than Ezra, "The Killer Inside"

They were kissing as they pushed their way into the room. His hands were everywhere: up her skirt, along her back, down over her ass. He boosted her up so that her legs were wrapped around him and shoved the door shut with his shoulder. He stumbled toward the bed, but when he would've dropped her on to it, she curled her fingers in his shirt and pulled him down with her. His bag fell to the floor next to him, but he just kicked it aside.

She giggled at the look on his face. He dipped his head to run his tongue up the side of her neck, and her laugh morphed into a gasp.

"You taste so good, Livvie," he mumbled against her skin.

"Take your clothes off, Ortiz. I need to get my hands on you."

He lifted his head, his face creased in a grin. "So demanding. And handsy."

"You mind? Because if you do we could just order some pizza and watch movies all night." She flipped onto her stomach and reached for the phone, but he grabbed her waist and dragged her back.

"Nuh uh." He pressed on top of her, his erection big against her ass, and she wiggled. His tongue traced the curve of her ear. "Tell me what you want, baby. I wanna make you feel so good."

He lifted a little so she could flip over, and her smile was thoughtful. "How about you tell me what _you_ want?" She traced her fingertips along his jaw and booped his nose. "You be in charge tonight. After all, this was all your idea," she said with a gesture at the hotel room.

"Really?" he said on a breath.

"Yeah." She grinned and kissed him. "Really."

He rolled onto his back next to her and waved a hand. "Guess that means you're takin' _your_ clothes off, Gable."

She made a soft noise and hopped to her feet. "I'll need you to unzip me," she said, her voice low and sweet. She turned her back, and he sat up and pulled her closer by the hips.

Part of the whole point of their anti-prom was to avoid spending the money on a fancy gown, but she had dressed up a little. She wore a figure-hugging black dress, knee length, and as he tugged the zipper down his breath caught. Underneath: black lace bra and matching panties.

He kissed each bit of pale skin as the zipper revealed it, then pushed the dress down her legs to the floor. Nipped the curve of her hip and ran both hands over her thighs.

"Turn around," he murmured, his voice husky.

She pivoted slowly and carded her fingers through his hair. "Need me to help you with your clothes, love?"

"Not yet," he said. He shook his head and stroked a palm over the holster around her thigh. "Plannin' to stab somebody tonight, sweetheart?"

"God I hope not," she said. She undid the velcro and set the knife on the nightstand. "Better safe than sorry, though."

"True." He hooked a finger under the edge of her panties and tugged. "Take these off."

The scrap of lace slithered down her legs and she kicked it away. He slid two fingers between her thighs and rubbed across her lips. Her head fell back on a quiet breath. He dropped to his knees in front of her and pulled her leg over his shoulder. His mouth was soft and warm on the inside of her thigh, and she couldn't suppress a shiver.

"Juicy, babe, I'm supposed to be making _you_ feel good."

"You are," he rasped. He pressed his lips against her and flicked his tongue across her clit. He rubbed over it, swirling and licking, and her fingers tangled in his short hair.

"Juan Carlos!" she gasped. "That's so good!"

He nipped at her labia, his lips soft and his teeth sharp. She shuddered against him, her breath coming in tiny pants, and he circled his tongue around and around her clit until she was grinding against his face.

He let out a rough sound of pleasure and sucked the slick little nub into his mouth. He lashed his tongue across it; scraped it just a little with his teeth; sucked and licked until she was nearly incoherent, her body vibrating and the muscles in her legs twitching beneath his palms.

"Not yet," he said again as he pulled away. She whimpered in protest, and he bit the inside of her thigh. "You wanna come, Livvie?"

"You know I do, Juicy," she whispered.

"You like the way I lick your pussy?" He trailed his tongue along her slit, avoiding her aching clit, and grinned at the desperate little noise she made.

"I love it, baby. I love it so damn much."

"Mmmm." He spread her open and flicked the tip of his tongue against her clit. "You know who this sweet pussy belongs to, don't you? No matter what happens. It's mine."

She shuddered, her fingers going tight against his scalp. He took one of her lips between his teeth and bit down, gently, before he sucked.

"You're mine, Olivia," he said. "Say it."

"I'm yours!" she cried. "I'm yours, Juicy."

He growled and thrust two fingers into her. Pressed his fingertips against her G-spot and sucked hard on her clit. She moaned and rocked against him. He swirled his tongue all over it, and the sensitive skin around it.

"That's it, baby, oh God yeah that's so good!"

He didn't let up, twisting his fingers as he fucked her with them, and it was no time at all before she tensed around him. She gasped his name and he lashed her with his tongue; used his free hand to hold her steady as her body went taut and her back arched.

"Yes, Juicy, yeah oh my God don't stop, don't stop!"

The orgasm went on and on, and as it finally started to pass he made his tongue soft and lapped gently, from the fingers buried inside her to her clit and back down again. She melted against him, limp and boneless, and he eased her down onto his lap. They kissed for a long time, and she licked the taste of her off his lips.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too, babe." He kissed her temple and stroked her hair back off her forehead. "Am I yours?" he said.

Her first instinct was to laugh—what a question—but at the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, all tender and worried and hopeful, she resisted the urge. Instead she kissed him again, nipping at his lips and running her tongue across his mouth, and when she pulled away she was smiling.

"Yeah, Juan Carlos. You're mine. Let's keep it that way, okay?"

He grinned, his eyes crinkling a little. "Yeah, Liv. Absolutely."

"You're still dressed," she said with a frown.

"Hhmm," he said. He lifted her to her feet and pressed his mouth to the inside of her knee. Stood up and pulled her close again. "Wanna help me with that?"

"I don't know, baby. Is it a question or a request?"

"More a very strong suggestion," he said with a smirk.

She shivered. "I did tell you you're in charge." She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her tongue along his collarbone. Pushed the shirt off his shoulders and unfastened his pants. She slid her hand into his shorts to find him hot and hard.

"You want me, Juicy?" she said as she nibbled his neck.

"You know I do."

She pulled away, smiling a little, but something in her eyes was…unsure. Sad, even. "You're a very patient person," she said.

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I've put you through a lot. A lot of ups and downs. You didn't have to stick it out."

"Yeah I did," he said, mouth quirking. At her expression his smile deepened. "I don't always get it either. Fuck, I never get it. All I know is from the first time I saw you I wanted to know you better. So I could either play it by your rules and have a chance, or try to make you do what I wanted and blow the whole fucking thing. I'm not an asshole."

"No," she said. She pushed him back onto the bed, her touch gentle but firm. "No, you're definitely not an asshole."

He grasped her hips and pulled her down with him as he fell, and they landed together in a tangle. They went still, his hands cupping her face and their noses brushing. He rubbed his against hers and her mouth curved.

"I love you," she said in a soft, wondering sort of voice.

"I know," he said, smugly.

"Jerk."

"Yup. But not an asshole."

She laughed and then they were kissing again. He slid his palms down her back to unhook her bra, and she wiggled against him. Fingers warm and rough on her nipple made her moan.

"Juicy," she panted. "Juicy, want you so much!"

"Turn over," he whispered. He scooted down so that he was behind her, and lifted her up by her hips. Ran a hand over her ass and gave it a light tap with the flat of his palm.

She drew in a sharp breath and cut a look at him over her shoulder. "What are you up to, Juice Ortiz?"

His expression turned shy. "You said…you said I could do what I want, right?"

"I did."

"I'm not gonna hurt you."

"I know. I just like to know what's on your mind."

"Don't move." He hopped off the bed and cast around for the bag. She couldn't really see him from her current position, on her knees with her ass in the air, but she couldn't imagine what else he would be doing. He'd been cagey about the bag's contents all night, and she had to admit she was curious.

"Um, actually. Sit down, I guess."

She grinned and flipped over onto her back. He sat next to her and unzipped the bag. Dug around a sec before he produced a box of condoms and a bottle of lube. Her eyes went wide as he flashed her an uncertain smile.

Taking the bottle from him, she studied it a moment before a wicked grin curved her mouth. "Are you asking what I think you are?"

He ducked his head, but she hooked a finger under his chin and made him look her in the eye. "Can we?" he finally said.

She slid up into his lap and kissed him, hard and hot. "Yeah, Ortiz," she murmured against his mouth. "We totally can."

"I'll go slow," he said between kisses, "and if you wanna stop just tell me."

She pushed away and turned over again, lifting up onto her knees and casting a look back at him. "Please, baby." Her voice was high and breathless. "Please!"

He groaned and yanked her back toward him. Pressed a line of fervent kisses over the curve of her ass. She squirmed, but he stilled her with a nip of his teeth. He spread her open and licked down, across her hole and to her dripping pussy, then back up again.

Her breath hitched and caught, and he grinned as he circled his tongue and pressed it against her.

"That's good, Juicy," she said. "So good."

He kissed his way up her side until he was stretched out next to her, and she smiled at him and straddled his hips. Leaned down to kiss him long and slow while he pumped some lube into his hand and rubbed a slick fingertip over her hole. He lifted his brows in a question, and she gave a fervent nod.

"Please," she breathed.

Every time she said it was like a shock to his system, and with a little groan he eased his finger into her. Deeper when she whimpered, and then he held it still.

"Okay, Livvie?" he murmured.

She nodded. "Yeah, love. Don't stop." She reached for the box of condoms and fished one out. Ripped the wrapper and rolled it down his erection. Her eyes were big and bright on his as she lifted up and slid down onto him.

"Liv!" he groaned, bucking against her. She was hot and wet and slick and she felt incredible. He thrust his finger in deeper, all the way, and she wiggled against him.

"Love that," she moaned. "Feels so damn good."

"We could just do this," he said. "Just like this." He pulled his finger out and added a second one, twisting them together and easing them in while she panted. He sat up and yanked her even closer. Her legs wrapped around him and he nipped at her throat as her head fell back.

"Whatever you want, baby," she said. "Anything you want. Just don't stop. Please don't stop!"

They had plenty of time, all the time in the world, and right now he couldn't imagine anything better than this. He tangled his free hand in her hair and kissed her. She moved on top of him, harder and faster, and they swallowed each other's moans.

"That's it, Livvie, that's right. Fuck don't stop, don't stop!"

He moved his hand in counter-rhythm and rained rough, sucking kisses along her neck and the curve of her shoulder. His cock dragged against her clit with every thrust and her nails dug into his back.

She panted his name in a desperate keen and he felt her go tight around him. Her cunt clenched his cock and her ass squeezed his fingers and he thought he might die from how good it felt. He bucked into her, groaning, and she let out a soft cry as the orgasm gripped her.

"Juicy! Yes, love, yes fuck that's good _yes_!"

He came with her, hard enough to make his head swim, and as his cock jerked inside her he chanted garbled words of love and affection and held her tight against him.

When they finally started to come down from it he eased his fingers out of her and wiped them on the sheet. Her forehead fell to rest against the curve of his neck and he trailed his hands through her hair. They were breathless and sweating, and she trembled in his arms. He pulled away just enough to get rid of the condom, tying off the end and tossing it in the trash, before he was back.

She was still shaking. He soothed her with whispered words and pressed his mouth to her temple. "Baby, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, but he could feel her tears against his skin. He didn't say anything, and finally she shook her head. "It's just sex."

"What?" He cupped her face and leaned away so that he could see her.

"It's just _sex_, Juice. Fucking. I don't understand why—why is it so different with you? Why does it feel different when you touch me? I just…shouldn't it be…kind of the same?"

"The same no matter who you're with?" he said, brow furrowing.

She hitched a shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, obviously some people are better at it than others, but still."

"You said it's always been different with me," he said after a moment.

"It has. From the first time you touched me. Before, even."

He grinned. "I wasn't that great at it when we started, so that can't be it."

She poked him in the shoulder. "Who says you're so great at it now?"

"Ohhhh," he said. "I see. How many times've I made you come tonight?"

"Twice," she said, fighting a smile.

"Uh huh. And it's not even midnight yet." He held onto her as he flipped them over, and she let out a little shriek of laughter. He kissed her, nipping at her lips, and slid his hands down her body. His expression turned serious.

"I don't know, Livvie," he said. "I've never been with anyone like you, either."

She frowned. "So what do we do about it?"

"Do? Why do we need to do anything?"

"I don't know. Shouldn't we?"

His head tilted as he considered. "What do you want to do? We could take out an ad in the yearbook: _Juice Ortiz and Olivia Gable have amazing sex!_"

"You're a dork," she said with a snort.

"Yeah, but I'm _your_ dork," he said, grinning.

"That's true." She kissed him softly and he stretched out next to her, pulling her snug against him. Their fingers tangled together. "It's going to be okay though. Right?"

He wasn't really sure what she was asking, but it almost didn't matter. He had faith in her, even if she didn't have any faith in herself.

"Yeah, Liv," he said and tugged a lock of her hair. "It's gonna be great."

* * *

Juice stirred as Olivia sat up and began to dig around for her clothes.

"Babe, what?"

"I'm going to get ice. I'm thirsty."

He smirked. "Wonder why."

Laughing, she pushed him back on the bed and kissed him. "Hush. No gloating, Ortiz."

"Hey, I deserve to gloat!" he said with a grin. "You said I wasn't good at it!"

"I didn't, not exactly. And besides, I was joking." She bit his lower lip and sucked. "You're very good at it, baby. You know that." He didn't say anything. She sat back with a frown. "You do know that, right?"

His hands fell to rest on her hips and he shrugged a little. "I mean, yeah. I guess so. It seems like it."

Her nose scrunched. She took his face in her hands and her eyes were steady on his. "Juice, listen. Do you know why I started this whole thing in the first place?"

"Not really. Sort of, I guess. You wanted good sex."

She sat back, a frown between her brows. "Juice—"

"That maybe came out wrong," he conceded with a grimace.

"Juice. I wanted _you_. I wanted you but I couldn't just…say that. Not after everything." She took a deep breath. "It's true I never planned to fall for you, but I wouldn't do this with just anyone. I wouldn't bother. That sounds arrogant. I just mean—"

"No," he said. "I get it. You thought I was worth your time."

"That sounds arrogant, too."

"I didn't mean it that way."

She ran her fingers through his hair. "However it might've started, you know how I feel _now_, right? You know why I'm here _now_?"

He grinned. "Because you realized I'm irresistible."

"Ortiz!"

He flipped them over and held her down; nuzzled her neck and kissed the line between her brows. She laughed and wrapped her legs around him, and her eyes went wide.

"_Again_?" she said.

"It can wait." He sobered, and the look in his eyes was deep and intense. "Olivia, I know. I knew then, and I know now. You don't gotta explain it to me."

"I just don't want you to think—"

"Shh," he murmured. "I don't. I never did. You're stubborn as hell, and sometimes it's easier just to play along. I knew you'd come around eventually."

She wanted to be offended, but she couldn't summon the energy. Instead she just smiled and shoved him off her. "Go get ice. Put some on your dick."

"I might need it after tonight." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Be right back." He found his pants and shorts and tugged them on, and at her look he tossed her panties to her. She grinned and blew him a kiss.

"I'm gonna turn down the flippy thing," he said.

"Sure. I'll be here when you get back."

"You better be," he said.

"Not goin' anywhere, love."

He grabbed the ice bucket and headed toward the hall. When the door shut behind him she wiggled into her underwear and went to the bathroom to pour a glass of water. She paused to run a brush through her hair, and outside she heard the door open and shut again.

"That was quick," she said as she emerged from the bathroom. "I thought the ice machine—" She froze and took a step back. "What the fuck?" she managed through lips gone numb.

"That's not a very nice way to greet me, Olivia," TJ said. He smiled, cold and hard. "Your boyfriend should've locked the door behind him."

Her heart pounded, but she tried to keep her expression calm. She inched toward the bathroom door. "He'll be right back. He just went to get ice."

"Oh I know," he said. "I'm counting on it." He paused. "Why don't you come here, sweetheart?"

"I'm good where I am. Thanks, though."

He eyed her up and down, lingering on her breasts with a little leer. "So you'll put out for that spic Mill trash but not me. Such a whore, Olivia."

Her teeth flashed in a humorless smile. "Maybe I put out for him because he never thought to call me a whore."

He surged toward her and she fell back. The doorknob dug into her spine. She thought he was going to hit her, but he didn't. Instead he did something she hadn't been expecting at all: he reached behind him and pulled out a gun.

"TJ," she said, her voice going calm and smooth, "TJ, what are you doing with a gun? There's no need for anything like that. Let's just—let's just talk. You and me. You can lock the door if you want so that Juice can't get back in. I'll just…" She angled her body toward the bed and suddenly the gun was in her face. She lifted her hands. "I'll just put some clothes on and we'll talk. Okay, TJ?"

"Shut up," he said. "Sit on the bed. We're gonna wait right here for your little boyfriend. I want him to know who you belong to."

"TJ, he knows. Come on. He knows I belong to you. You don't need to mess with him."

"Sit. Down," he barked, jerking the gun toward the bed.

She swallowed hard and did as he said. She kept her gaze away from the knife still on the nightstand; it was a good bet he probably wouldn't recognize it anyway. The sheath was laying over it and only a gleam of the brass knuckles showed.

She sat as close to the nightstand as she could without making it obvious. TJ stepped toward her and ran the gun barrel down the center of her chest.

"All these freckles," he said with a frown. "It's too bad. You really are pretty otherwise."

"Thank you, TJ," she said, her eyes downcast. He tapped her chin with the gun and she looked up at him.

"Smile for me, sweetheart. Show me how happy you are to see me."

"Of course I'm happy to see you, TJ. I've been waiting for you." Over his shoulder she saw the door start to open. "Juice, get out of here! Run!" she cried.

It had the opposite effect she wanted: he shoved through the door and only stopped when he saw TJ's gun pressed against Olivia's temple.

"Oh good," TJ said. "You're back. We've been waiting for you."

Juice's eyes darted from TJ to Olivia and back again. "Hey, man," he finally said. "Glad you stopped by. You don't need the gun. We can all just talk, you know? No big deal."

"That's what I said," Olivia said.

He grabbed a handful of Olivia's hair and yanked hard enough to make her wince as he turned the gun on Juice. "Not sure we've really got much to say. She's mine. I came to get her back."

"You know I can't let you do that," Juice said. He didn't sound the least bit ruffled, but Olivia knew him well enough to recognize the tightening around his mouth and the slight widening of his eyes.

"It's okay, Juice," Olivia said. "I already told TJ I'd be happy to go with him." She smiled and touched TJ's arm. "He's who I love, after all. Who I belong with."

He sneered. "That's right. And you're lucky I still want to touch you after he had his filthy hands all over you."

"You're so generous, TJ," she murmured. From the corner of her eye she could see Juice moving closer. TJ had dropped his guard somewhat, and if she could get her hands on the knife—

TJ straightened and pointed the gun at Juice again. He went still. "Doesn't seem like we really need him at all," he said with a strange, high-strung laugh.

"That's true," Olivia said. "Let me put some clothes on and we'll leave. Just you and me, TJ."

"I don't know, Olivia," he said. "I might want to make sure he knows you're mine."

Her mouth fell open a little. She didn't like the look in his eyes: they were too bright, his pupils too small, and he wasn't blinking enough. What was he on? She licked her lips and tried to smile again. "I think he knows, sugar. He knows I was just killing time with him until you came around again."

She darted a look at Juice. "Let me put some clothes on, TJ. He doesn't need to see me like this. Not anymore."

TJ glared at her, but after a moment his head jerked in a nod. "Make it quick."

She grabbed her dress off the floor and stepped into it. Turned her back on TJ and gathered her hair out of the way. "Zip me up?" she said.

He made a low noise, maybe of annoyance, and reached for her zipper. She was standing with her thigh pressed against the nightstand, and while he was distracted she let her fingers close around the brass knuckles. The knife came free of the sheath easily, and she tucked them into her palm. He would see them if he bothered to look. She hoped he wouldn't.

"There," he said and smoothed a hand down her back.

She turned to face him again. Juice was directly behind him now, almost close enough to touch. She swallowed around the lump in her throat and smiled. "We should—we should get out of here, don't you think?"

His eyes jumped around her face, and behind him Juice raised the ice bucket. There was a breathless moment that seemed to drag forever, and then suddenly the bucket smashed into TJ's head. He roared and spun around. Olivia flicked the blade out and did what Happy had taught her: straight up, under the ribs, toward the kidneys.

TJ staggered, but whatever he was on had him so wired he didn't go down. Olivia twisted the knife and he screeched. Juice reached for the gun, and as he knocked it aside it went off.

The roar was deafening, and Olivia was so stunned she couldn't move. Her entire head rang and the adrenaline pumping through her had reduced her vision to a dim tunnel. She blinked. The gun. Had to get the gun. She yanked her knife out of TJ and he finally slumped over, more from shock than anything.

Juice.

She blinked.

Juice was on the floor. Blood. Too much blood. His hands clutched his side and everything seemed to move in slow motion. She jerked her head. Juice reached for her, his fingers red and trembling, and suddenly reality came back like the crash of a wave.

Noise everywhere: TJ's shrieks and Juice calling her name. Someone pounding on the door. And, apparently, Olivia herself screaming. Screaming and screaming like she couldn't imagine how to stop.

* * *

_*cues the suspenseful music*_


	33. Closing In

Just a little shorter today, loves. But it gets the job done. :)

* * *

**these four walls are closing in on me**  
**the talk is louder than i'll sing**  
**i want to be there, want to be where you are**  
**but you know it all, every look and smile that aren't meant to break**  
**i'm over the bridge and under the rain**  
Matt Kearney, "Crashing Down"

And, like a rubber band snapping, calm set in. Olivia took a deep breath. She ran for the bathroom to grab a towel, a blanket from the closet, and before she knelt next to Juice she swiped the phone off the nightstand. She smiled at him and batted his hand away from his side so she could press the towel against him. She unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around him.

"Hold this, baby," she said. "You're gonna be fine. Hold it tight." He managed a pained nod, and she dialed 911. She rested her hand on his and helped him add pressure. He grunted and she kissed his forehead. "Shh," she murmured. "It's gonna be all right, Juicy. I promise."

"Hurts," he mumbled.

She stroked his cheek and answered the operator on the phone. "Someone broke into our motel room and shot my boyfriend. We need an ambulance. The Carriage Inn, room two seventeen."

There was a pause while she listened, and some of her calm seemed to crack.

"Um." Her eyes darted to TJ sprawled across the floor nearby and she swallowed. "Um, I stabbed him. He—it looks like he's…breathing, but I…" She moved her head in a quick jerk. "Yeah, of course. Yeah."

Juice reached for her as she pushed to her feet, and she squeezed his fingers. "Keep the pressure on. I'll be right back," she said to him. She checked TJ's pulse and shoved a wadded up bit of sheet beneath his back. She didn't want to turn him over; she didn't know much first aid beyond health class, and she had no idea what flipping him might do.

"There's a lot of blood," she said. "His pulse is pretty fast. Um…I don't want to move him, and…" She glanced over at Juice. What the fuck was she doing? Obviously she didn't want TJ to die, but she also didn't want to waste her time and attention on him. She glared at the phone and hung up. She knew it wasn't 911 protocol, but she didn't really care.

Still scowling, she threw open the door. The person pounding on it—a security guard—looked taken aback by her expression, and for a moment he paused. "I called 911 already," she said. "Come help."

She pointed him toward TJ and he hesitated. "What the hell happened here?" he said.

"That guy shot this guy and I stabbed that guy. Please just make sure he doesn't die, okay?" She dropped down next to Juice again and grasped his hand. "Help's on the way, love," she said.

"Hope he dies," Juice grunted.

Biting her lip, she darted her eyes that way. She wanted to agree, but she knew if he _did_ die, the cops would be all over her. They would be anyway. She didn't want the security guard explaining how the girl who stabbed the rich kid wished for his death afterwards.

"Just breathe, Juicy," she said. "Look at me. I've got you."

"Hey!" the guard said. "He's not doin' so good."

"An ambulance is coming," she said. "Cover him up. It's important to keep him warm, for shock and stuff."

"You really stabbed this kid?"

Her knife was on the floor between them and the bed. She nodded toward it. "He shot my boyfriend. He had been holding me at gunpoint. Yes, I stabbed him."

In the distance sirens wailed. She closed her eyes and pressed a bloody hand against her forehead. "They're coming," she said to Juice. "Hang on, babe. They're coming."

"I'm okay, Liv," he said. "Really I'm okay. Doesn't hurt much."

"Shit," she muttered. She lifted the blanket and her eyes went wide. The towel was soaked through. "You're gonna be fine, Juan Carlos. Hear me? Just fine."

His mouth curved. "So bossy."

"Damn right."

Paramedics burst through the door and Olivia and the guard scrambled out of their way. She tried to answer their barrage of questions as best she could, but she had no idea how long it had been. The guard knew, though. He hadn't been having a mental breakdown at the time.

TJ's heart stopped, but they got it going again with the defibrillator, and it was him they took out first. Another crew was right behind them, and she followed them to the ambulance.

"Miss!" the guard called. "You gotta stay here and talk to the cops!"

She cast a look over her shoulder. "They can find me at the hospital." One of the paramedics helped her into the back of the ambulance and slammed the doors behind them.

* * *

The hotel was outside of Charming proper, so it fell under the sheriff's jurisdiction, not Unser's—more's the pity. She had no real desire to answer any of their questions, but she knew she had to. The only thing that put them off was her age. She was a minor, and they had to wait for her dad to get there. He was at work, so it was going to take a little while. In the meantime she called Juice's mom, and now they sat in the waiting room together while Juice was in surgery.

Olivia could barely look at her. All of this was her fault. She'd had no idea TJ was so unhinged, but maybe she could've done something. Talked to him. Or, at the other end of the spectrum, she could've told Chibs or Tig what was really going on and they could've done something about it.

Except that might've just made things worse. How much worse could they get at this point?

"Olivia," Ana said, her voice soft.

Olivia's chin tilted in that direction, but she still wouldn't look her in the face.

"Olivia, please. My son loves you very much. He'd never want you to blame yourself for this."

"It's my fault, though. TJ was there for me. He shot Juice when Juice was trying to defend me. It's entirely my fault."

She sighed and rested a hand on Olivia's knee. "Juan Carlos was very different back in Queens. Much more withdrawn. Fewer friends." She smiled a little. "Hardly any friends. Moving out here has done him so much good. Maybe the best part is how he's been since he started dating you."

Now Olivia did look at her, surprise dropping her jaw and lifting her brows. "I don't understand," she finally said.

"He's always been sensitive. Quiet. Still waters run deep, as they say." She paused, and her dark eyes—so much like Juice's—were steady on Olivia's. "I hear his voice when he talks about you. I see his face. He laughs more. Smiles more. He looks forward to school."

"I don't think that's just because of me. I mean, there's Jax and Opie. Tara and Donna, too, but he isn't as close with them. From what he's told me about his old school, I think he's just glad people aren't stuffing him in trashcans anymore."

She made a low, doubtful noise. "I'm sure his other friends are part of it."

Olivia cleared her throat and shifted in the uncomfortable chair. "I never meant for—I never thought—" She broke off and shook her head. "I love him, too," she whispered.

"I know, _mija_."

She blinked, and Ana smiled big and bright, so like her son that Olivia's breath caught. "Anyone who cares about Juan Carlos as much as you do is already part of the family."

Olivia laughed. "Maybe we should clear that with Juice first."

"Something tells me he won't mind."

Confused and flustered, Olivia opened her mouth to reply. Before she could, her father burst through the waiting room doors. He caught sight of them and rushed their way. Scooped her up before she was even on her feet and squeezed her so tight she squeaked.

"Daddy, I'm okay," she gasped. "Put me down!"

He held her at arms' length, and his eyes were wild. "Olivia, Jesus, all they told me was that you were a the hospital and there'd been a _shooting_. Whose blood is this?"

She glanced back at Ana. "It's Juice's. He's the one who was shot."

"Holy shit." James reached for Ana and they hugged for a moment before he was back in Olivia's face. "What happened, sweetheart? Who had a gun?"

"TJ," she said, avoiding his eyes. She opened her mouth, but Ana's hand on her arm stopped her. She nodded across the room. Two cops were headed their way, and Olivia had no doubt they wouldn't be put off this time.

"Are you this girl's father?" one of them said.

James frowned and wrapped an arm around Olivia. "James Gable. Gentlemen, surely your questions can wait. My daughter's had a trauma tonight."

One of them raised a brow. "I'm Lieutenant Mendoza, SanWa County Sheriff. We really do need to ask your daughter a few questions."

"It's okay, Dad," she said. "I might as well get it over with."

The cops had taken over one of those patient liaison rooms, where families waited for news from the doctors, and now they led Olivia and her father that way. They offered water, which Olivia accepted, and once they were all settled the sheriff pulled out a pad of paper and fixed her with a smile. He was about her father's age, with sun-worn brown skin and kind dark eyes.

"This shouldn't take long," he said to Olivia. "We just need to straighten out a few details." He gestured to the deputy, and she pulled out a clear plastic bag. Olivia's brow furrowed when she saw what was inside. "Do you recognize this knife, Olivia?"

She nodded. "It's mine."

"Yours?" James said. "Since when do you have a knife?"

"Since someone slashed the truck's tires," she said, her voice weary.

Mendoza shifted in his chair. "Is it true you and TJ Flanary have a prior relationship?"

"That's right," Olivia said. "I broke up with him before Christmas."

"And what's the nature of your relationship with Juan Carlos Ortiz?"

"He's my boyfriend. We've been dating…" She trailed off with a shrug. "A few months."

He lifted a brow at her. "Why don't you just tell me what happened tonight, Olivia."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Juice—Juan Carlos—booked a room for us at the Carriage Inn." She cut her eyes toward her dad, but he remained impassive. "It's prom night. We decided not to go, our group of friends, because it's too expensive."

"And who are your friends?" he said.

"Um. Jax Teller, Tara Knowles, Opie Winston, and Donna West."

"Jax Teller and Opie Winston," he repeated.

"I don't think her friends have anything to do with this," James said. "Go ahead, Ollie."

"Juice left to get ice, and I was in the bathroom. I heard the door open and thought it was him, but it was TJ."

"Why would TJ follow you and Juan Carlos—Juice—to the hotel?"

She frowned and glanced at her dad. He gave a brief nod. "He didn't take the breakup well. He tried to attack me, and later he started some pretty nasty rumors about me at school. Someone had taken pictures of Juice and me and sent them to me. Later I got some really creepy gifts in my locker, and then earlier this week someone slashed the tires on my truck."

"Whoever did that also killed a cat and stuffed its body in the wheel well," James said.

"What?" said Olivia.

James squeezed her hand. "We didn't want to upset you, sweetheart."

"All right," Mendoza said as he made notes. "Do you have proof TJ was behind any of these pranks?"

"They were a little bit more severe than pranks, Sheriff," James said with a frown.

"TJ assaulted me at school. Grabbed me around the throat and threw me into a locker. Juice punched him, and they got into a fight. TJ was suspended for two weeks, kicked off lacrosse, and banned from all school events, like prom court and senior superlatives. He was pissed," Olivia said.

Mendoza made a low noise. "Okay, so you came out of the bathroom and he was there. What happened next?"

"I told him to get out, and he pulled a gun. Made me sit on the bed." She paused a moment for a sip of water. "I tried to talk him into just leaving. I didn't want Juice to get hurt, and TJ looked crazy. Like, his eyes were all weird and he was talking really fast."

"Do you think he might have been under the influence of something?"

"Seemed like it," Olivia said with a shrug. "Anyway, Juice came in, and he was threatening Juice with the gun, kept saying he was going to shoot him…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and when she spoke again her voice was thick. "Juice hit him in the head with the ice bucket and grabbed for the gun, but it went off. I—I stabbed TJ in the back when he and Juice were fighting, like right after he shot Juice."

Mendoza sat back and tapped his pen against the pad. "That's where we have a problem, Olivia. You stabbed him in the back."

"He'd been facing me until Juice hit him, then he turned around and he _shot_ Juice. I knew if I didn't do something he'd probably shoot me, too."

"She was defending herself and her boyfriend, sheriff," James said. "I think that's obvious. TJ is nearly six feet tall. He plays football and lacrosse, and apparently he was on drugs. My daughter is five foot three. Would she really have stood a chance against him head-on, especially since he had a gun?"

Mendoza's brows lifted in a little shrug and he gestured for Olivia to continue. "Go on," he said.

"I sort of…I kind of flipped out for a minute, so I'm not really sure what happened after that. I called 911 and tried to do some first aid on Juice and TJ. There was a security guard. I let him in and he was helping TJ. I don't know. Then the paramedics came. It's all sort of a blur."

"Where did you get the knife? You know a six-inch blade switchblade is illegal. It's too long."

She raised her hand in a shrug. "I had no idea. It was a gift."

"From whom?" Mendoza said.

"A friend. Why does it matter?"

"Is my daughter under arrest, Sheriff Mendoza? Do I need to call a lawyer?"

He kept his eyes on hers a few moments longer before finally he relented and shook his head. "No, Mr. Gable. Olivia's story matches the sequence of events as far as we can tell, and it seems like TJ came to that hotel for the purpose of doing your daughter and her boyfriend harm. He brought a gun, after all." His mouth quirked. "His father's gun."

Olivia made a face but didn't comment.

"Mr. Flanary is already making noise about this, though. If TJ doesn't make it—"

"He doesn't have _that_ much pull, does he? I mean, I know he's rich, but if the evidence says—and when Juice wakes up, he'll—" She broke off. Bit her lip and clenched her shaking fingers into fists. "He'll say what happened."

"I understand that, but you need to know—Flanary is a major donor for the DA's reelection campaign."

"And yours?" James said.

Mendoza bared his teeth in a smile. "He supports my opponent."

"Yeah, but I imagine he'd switch gears if you tried to punish the girl who hurt his little boy," Olivia said.

"I don't have much interest in Mr. Flanary's style of politics." He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Be that as it may, he's the reason I'm here talking to you instead of one of my detectives. I didn't want there to be any questions about impropriety or mishandling."

"I don't want TJ dead. I wouldn't…I was just trying to protect myself, and protect Juice. That's all."

"That seems clear, but I imagine Mr. Flanary will want to muddy the issue. Things like these rumors he started, and the apparent stalking; they're motive for TJ's attack, but Flanary could try to use them as motive against _you_. You were angry with TJ and wanted him to leave you and your boyfriend alone, so you attacked him."

Olivia snorted, but inside she felt an icy brush of fear. "That's ridiculous. He followed us. He came to our room. He brought a gun. You just said that. It would be different if I stabbed him at _his_ house."

"Sounds like a great argument for your lawyer," Mendoza said.

James shifted. "Do you think we need a lawyer?" he asked again. "It sounds like you aren't going to charge her with anything."

Mendoza shrugged. He seemed weary. "I don't make the decision to charge someone, Mr. Gable. The DA does. I'm not going to arrest you, Olivia, assuming Juice corroborates your story. Unfortunately my boss might have other ideas."

Olivia grasped her father's hand and squeezed. "Do you really think…?"

"I don't know," Mendoza said. His voice was compassionate, his expression serious. "I just wanted to prepare you. Get in touch with a lawyer just in case. I'll give my report to the DA as soon as I talk to Juice, and I'll do what I can to convince the DA not to press charges."

"We appreciate it, sheriff," James said.

Before any of them could say anything further, the door opened and a deputy stuck his head in the room. "Ortiz is out of surgery," he said.

Olivia's eyes went wide. "Is he—?"

The deputy glanced at Mendoza, who nodded. "Doctor didn't say much, just that he was in recovery. I guess we can talk to him once he wakes up," he said to the sheriff.

"Good," he said. "Any news on Flanary?"

The deputy shook his head. "Surgery still, I'm pretty sure."

"All right. Thank you." The door shut behind him and Mendoza looked at Olivia and James. "I imagine you'd like to be with Mrs. Ortiz now."

"It's _Ms._," Olivia said. "But yeah. I think we would."

* * *

Consciousness was fleeting and overrated. It hurt to be awake. He'd seen his mom and talked to the cops, and now he just wanted to sleep. But pain pulled him to the surface, and this time when he opened his eyes his mom was gone. The chair wasn't empty, though, and he couldn't help but smile when he recognized her familiar bright hair.

"Liv," he murmured.

Her head shot up and tears filled her eyes. His eyes. His smile, silly and kind of dopey from the pain medication. He was pale, too pale, but she was so happy to see him looking back at her that she could barely speak. "Oh my God, Juicy."

"Don't cry," he said. "I feel good."

"Liar." She scooted closer to the bed and brushed her fingers against his. He grasped her hand and held on tight. "You look like shit, Ortiz."

He grinned. "I do kinda feel like shit."

"You scared me. Don't ever do that again. You _scared_ me!"

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. If you hadn't hit him—" She broke off and bit her lip, and he rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand.

"I told the cops everything I remembered. TJ had a gun on you and I hit him and—"

"I know, baby. Sheriff Mendoza said he won't arrest me, so really it's just up to the DA not to press charges."

His eyes went wide. "Why would he do that? TJ attacked us."

"Political cronyism," she said. "TJ's dad is helping get the DA reelected."

"Fuck," Juice muttered. "That's fuckin' bullshit."

"Don't I know it."

There was a pause while they just looked at each other. Juice untangled his fingers from hers and touched her face like he thought she might disappear. "I dreamed about you."

"Oh yeah?" she said, her voice soft. "What did you dream?"

"You and me. We were—we were grown up, and we had a place. Like a real nice place. And we were…we were real happy. We had a dog."

Her face creased in a smile and she sniffled. "That sounds great."

"Yeah," he said. "It was." He scowled. "How's TJ?"

"They haven't really said. His surgery lasted way longer than yours, and no one will give me an update. I'm not family or anything, so…" She trailed off with a shrug, then she dropped her forehead to rest on his arm. "What if he dies, Juicy?"

"Good riddance."

"I mean it!" she cried. "What if he _dies_? I will have _killed_ him! I know we hate him and he's fucking horrible, but he has a mom. She's bound to love him, right? And his dad, I guess."

"Hey," Juice said. "Hey, it's okay. Hush, babe. Look, if he dies—well, fuck, Liv, he tried to kill me. He would've if you hadn't stabbed him. He might've killed you, but only before he—" He broke off and swallowed hard. "If he dies, he deserved it. You did what you had to do. Better him than either one of us."

"Will you still love me if I'm a murderer?"

He laughed, but it was stilted from pain. "I'll love you no matter what, Olivia. You know that." He poked her arm. "Right?"

After a moment she nodded. "Yeah, Juicy. I know."

A nurse poked her head in and glared at Olivia. "Are you upsetting my patient?" she said.

"Nah," said Juice. "She's cheerin' me up."

"Mmmhhmm," she said, doubtfully. "Visiting hours are almost over. As soon as Ana gets back you'll have to leave, Olivia."

Olivia nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

She checked Juice's stats and then hurried out. As the door shut behind her Juice and Olivia could hear a commotion in the hall. They shared apprehensive glances, and a moment later two men burst into the room, followed by the protesting nurse.

"Really, gentlemen, surely this can wait! My patient—"

"We're not here for your patient, ma'am," the taller one said.

Olivia recognized one of them: Sheriff Mendoza. The man behind him was dressed in an expensive suit, and her heart thudded hard in her chest.

"Juice," she whispered. He looked as confused and frightened as she felt, but his grip on her fingers was strong and reassuring.

"This girl is a minor!" the nurse said. "You can't just—you need to call her guardian."

"My dad went home," Olivia said, inanely. "He'll be back soon to pick me up."

Mendoza let out a heavy sigh and held out a hand. "I'm sorry, Olivia," he said. "Come here, please."

"What's going on?" Juice said. "I told you what happened: TJ shot me. He attacked us. She didn't do anything wrong!"

"Juice, try to stay calm," the nurse said. His heart rate spiked on the monitor and she glared at the sheriff. "Can't this _wait_?"

"No," the suited man said. "It can't." He nodded at Mendoza, who scowled and reached for Olivia. He peeled her hand out of Juice's and gently pulled her arms behind her.

"Olivia Gable, you're under arrest for the murder of Theodore Flanary, Jr."

Her mouth fell open and Juice howled in protest.

"No," she said. "No. He attacked us! You know that!"

"You have the right to remain silent," Mendoza continued as though she hadn't spoken. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…"

Her mind blanked as he read her rights. She couldn't believe it. TJ was dead. She had killed him. She'd killed him, but…but she hadn't _meant_ to, and if she hadn't…

Juice had just said it. TJ or them. She'd choose them any day.

"Don't say anything," Mendoza murmured under his breath. "Wait for your father. Wait for a lawyer. Don't say a word."

She clamped her mouth shut and let him lead her away. She would take his advice. Mendoza knew her story, and he was on her side. The other guy must be the fucking DA. She glared at him, but his smooth face was blank.

TJ was dead. Olivia had killed him. And apparently Teddy Flanary wasn't taking _self defense_ for an answer.

* * *

_hum._


End file.
